Coercion
by CoffeeManiac
Summary: Dean and Sam are captured and used as leverage against each other. Dean must hunt or Sam will die. Set in early Season 3. Story is complete. New chapters will be posted about every two days. No slash. Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

A/N: I am not a fan of "Weak Sam". As you read this you might start to think that I am. Try to stick with it, there are reasons for Sam's behavior.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 1

Dean dropped his bag on the floor at the end of the motel bed. The peeling wallpaper might have been brown at one time, it might have been orange. He didn't know and didn't care. Glancing at his brother, he shook his head and sat down on the maroon bedspread. Sam set his bag on one of the double beds, dug out a small first aid kit then headed towards the bathroom.

An hour earlier they had rescued two teenagers from a vampire nest but during the fight, one of the bloodsuckers had sliced Sam's arm with a knife. The wound bled a lot at first but Sam tied it off and now he just needed to disinfect and bandage it. Dean would have helped but Sam preferred treating himself.

When Sam emerged a few minutes later, he wore his white undershirt. He carried his flannel over one arm and a clean bandage ran from his wrist to below his elbow. He looked pale and tired but Dean suspected he looked similar.

"Are you hungry?" Dean said.

"Uh, yeah," Sam said. "You want to try Millie's, that diner out by the street?"

"Homemade apple pie, fresh daily."

Sam flashed a quick smile. "Okay."

Sam pulled a new shirt out of his bag, slipped it on then followed that up with a jacket. Dean stood up, stretched his arms over his head then followed him outside. The Wyoming night had turned cold and he decided they should hunt in the south and southwest during the winter, save the freezing states for summer. He doubted that Bobby or Sam would agree to that.

Once inside the Impala, Dean started the engine and turned on the heat. Sam zipped up his jacket and rubbed his hands.

"We should stick to Arizona and Florida during the winter," Sam said.

"I was just thinking that," Dean said.

He drove to the diner located a few blocks down from the motel. It was small with booths and square tables, a breakfast bar, and red and white checked tablecloths. A heavyset blonde with a friendly smile greeted them at the door and told them to sit anyplace. Sam chose a booth and slid into the side that faced the entrance. Dean faced the exit.

A few people filled out the place; some families with kids, a couple tired looking businessmen sitting alone and one teenage couple who were holding hands across the table.

The blonde greeter, her nametag dubbed her 'Nancy', doubled as the waitress and she delivered ice water and menus. After she walked away, Sam said,

"We've been here before."

"This diner?"

"Yeah. Diner…town…remember when Jake Talley and Yellow Eyes opened the gate?"

Jake Talley murdered Sam. Dean sold his soul to get Sam's life back. Jake and Azazel were able to unlock a gate to Hell and release a boatload of demons.

"Rings a bell," Dean said.

"The gate is only a few miles from here. I think we came through this place after you killed Azazel."

Dean looked around trying to remember it. They spent more time in more diners than anyone should and, frankly, they tended to blend together. But, he spied a metal sign featuring Babe Ruth hanging crooked on one of the walls.

"Babe Ruth says chew Pinch-Hit Tobacco," Dean read. "I remember that sign."

Sam took a moment to glance at it then returned to skimming through the menu.

"Same motel, too?" Dean said.

"I don't think so. We followed Bobby and Ellen back to Bobby's place, drove straight through."

Nancy, the waitress, returned a moment later to take their order; bacon cheeseburger for Dean, and grilled chicken sandwich for Sam. They both added a beer and settled in to wait for their food.

"How's your arm?" Dean said, referring to Sam's injury.

"It's fine. Nothing to it."

"Now that we got rid of that nest, I'm thinking we take a drive down to Texas. We can find a case there as easy as anyplace, right? And it's warm."

"Bobby wants us in South Dakota. Says he wants help with a werewolf thing. We're supposed to meet up with him in a couple days."

Dean scowled. He loved Bobby, liked having a place to stay that had real food and iced beer, but he didn't like the damp and cold.

When the main entrance door squeaked open, Sam sat up and cocked his head so Dean turned around to see what caught his attention. Walking towards them with his slow, easy gait, Mayor Marco Rivera smiled as he approached. Tall and built like a rancher, he glided across the restaurant in his cowboy boots and jeans. He had black hair, trimmed short, and dark brown eyes. When he drew close enough, both Dean and Sam started to stand but he waved them back down and asked if he could sit.

"Of course," Sam said.

"Is there more trouble, Mayor?" Dean said.

Rivera shook his head. "No, no, you took care of that and the town is grateful, even if most of them don't know about it. I have to say, the sheriff, Duke Davis, was real impressed with you boys. Especially you, Dean. Nothing against your brother, of course."

Sam just nodded and shrugged.

Dean shot a teasing grin at him before he said, "The sheriff recognizes talent."

Rivera laughed then relaxed back in his seat when Nancy arrived with their dinners. She set them out then asked the mayor if he wanted anything. He didn't so she hustled away.

"Listen, I hate to track you down like this, especially while you're eating but, I wasn't sure I'd get another chance to see you before you left town," Rivera said.

"It's no problem," Sam said.

"Sure. Spit it out," Dean said.

"There's an old farmhouse, out off I-5 that I was hoping you might visit tomorrow morning. It's not too far, shouldn't take you out of the way, wherever you're going."

"What's at the farmhouse," Dean said.

"This is going to sound farfetched but I guess after you decapitate some vampires, there's nothing too out of the ordinary, is there?"

Sam shrugged as he glanced at Dean. Neither of them commented.

"Well," Rivera said. "They say it's been haunted for the last few years. My sister, Ava, and her husband, Eddie, live there."

"We met Eddie last night," Sam said.

"Right, so you know who I mean. Anyway, I'd take it as a personal favor if you could just swing by there, take a look around and let me know what you think."

Dean shared another look with his brother before he nodded. "Sure, Mayor, we can head out there first thing. Before we leave town."

"Thanks, boys. Ava is my only family so I try to take care of her as much as I can."

After writing down the address and some general directions, Mayor Rivera shook hands with each of them then strode out. Dean watched him go thinking that it was odd for him to come looking for them. The mayor had Dean's cell number so a phone call would have worked as well.

"I wonder how he knew we'd be here," Sam said.

"A little odd," Dean said.

"I don't know, small town, he's the mayor. Probably told the cops to keep an eye out or something."

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all."

Sam nodded. "It was odd."

They finished their dinner which was surprisingly good then headed back to the motel. Sam changed into pajamas, the loose cotton kind that he preferred. Dean kicked off his boots and dropped his top shirt on to the nearest chair then settled in with the television remote.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

The next morning they grabbed some questionable breakfast burritos from a convenience store then drove out to the farmhouse to meet with the mayor. Dean thought the Impala sounded rough but Sam couldn't hear a difference.

"That's why I'm the mechanic and you're the nerd," Dean said.

Sam let that pass. He was used to being teased and he wasn't interested in verbal sparring with his brother. He preferred glancing at the scenery while he scrolled through some research sites on his phone. He continued looking for a way to break Dean's deal despite Dean's objections. He refused to allow his brother to go to hell; not if he could stop it.

With an aching arm and the burrito laying heavy on his stomach, he wished they were just driving out of town rather than looking for another job. He'd much rather be at Bobby's working on saving Dean's soul than taking on another issue in Ranch Head, Wyoming.

"What's going on in that oversized brain of yours?" Dean said.

"Nothing really. Just ready to…watch out…" Sam's warning came too late.

A blue pick-up truck sped across the line, slamming into the driver's side near the back end. Dean cursed as he hit the brakes, clinging to the wheel as they spun a full circle then a half before skidding to stop at the edge of a ditch. Both of them jerked at the impact then were tossed wildly while the car careened. Sam grunted when his head hit the window, pain flashed through his skull then radiated through his neck and back.

When the car stopped, Sam looked towards Dean finding the blurry image of his brother leaning against the steering wheel, his hands still clenched there. Warm blood trickled against Sam's neck while he pushed back the threat of blackness. He reached out to Dean, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Sam said. His heart beat fiercely in his chest and his stomach felt tight.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said but when he pushed back, blood marred his forehead. "You?"

"Yeah, what the hell?"

Dean tried to push open his door but it was jammed. Sam reached for the handle on his side. A moment later, he heard footsteps pattering against the pavement. Looking around as he pushed out of the vehicle, he found several men rushing around them. Still muddled from hitting his head, he couldn't understand what they were doing until he heard Dean yell out. Everything seemed blurry and disconnected when he felt hands on his coat and he reacted instinctively. He threw a punch as he twisted to break the grip then something landed hard against his back. A thudding pain drove him to the ground then another blow to his side sent him tumbling forward. He rolled, needing space to regroup. Just as he managed to get on his knees, he heard the click as a gun cocked into position.

"Stop," Sheriff Duke Davis said. "We got you."

Sam swallowed the bile creeping up his throat. His head pounded a nauseating rhythm in his skull. Unable to get his eyes to focus he stopped moving.

Dean yelled something unintelligible and Sam tried to see him, to get his eyes to clear, but everything looked fuzzy and out of focus. The more he fought it, the worse it got.

Hands gripped his wrists, roughly yanking his arms behind him then he heard the clink of handcuffs before he felt cold metal against his skin. Weakly, he sat back on his legs and tried again to find Dean. He didn't need to. Dean tumbled next to him then righted himself.

"What is this?" Dean demanded. His voice sounded like an echo in Sam's ears.

"We're going for a ride and then we'll tell you everything," Davis said. "For now, you need to stay calm. You're outnumbered and your brother is hurt so it's best if you cooperate."

Dean chuckled but there was no humor. Sam knew Dean was already plotting their escape. His plan would be five steps ahead of whatever the Sheriff and his buddies expected. And whatever that plan was, Sam would jump in.

One of the Sheriff's men, a deputy from the Ranch Head police station took Sam's arm and dragged him off the ground. On shaking legs, he managed not to fall over though his bound arms made it more difficult. He kept his head down because trying to look up or around made him sick. He felt Dean's absence more than saw it when his brother was hustled into a different vehicle.

The deputy propelled Sam into the sheriff's car. No one spoke as they rode giving Sam time to think. The head injury interfered with his concentration. With pain pulsing behind his eyes and the dark clouds hovering at his peripheral, he worried he might pass out or vomit, neither of those events would be welcome.

After a few turns and a nauseating couple of miles on a dirt road, the deputy pulled the SUV into a driveway beside a farmhouse. Sam's arms ached so he was glad to be coaxed out of the vehicle so he could relieve the pressure. He slid on to the gravel drive then stumbled backward when his legs weakened. The deputy grabbed his arm to steady him.

"You all right?" The deputy said.

Sam didn't risk trying to glare but he didn't respond either.

"Sam?" Dean said. "How you doing?"

"Been better."

"You'll both be fine," Davis said. "But, we're going to split you up. Myers, Lancaster, take Sam to the house while Dean and I talk."

Sam's stomach clenched at the order. If he felt stronger; if he could see; he'd be able to put Deputy Myers down, probably take the other one too. Even handcuffed, both he and Dean were formidable. But, he doubted all the willpower in the world would carry him more than a few steps.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Dean itched to slam his boot into Davis' chest. He figured he could take the sheriff down then use a roundhouse kick to pummel the other man closest to him. Unfortunately, that's where his plan ended. With his wrists handcuffed behind him, he doubted he could take the two ass hats surrounding Sam and from the way Sam was tottering, his brother wouldn't be able to help.

Dean wanted to check him out, maybe get him to a hospital but he didn't make any demands. He needed to keep his worry about Sam under control until he could act. So he waited, watching the movements around him and getting a feel for the farmhouse while observing Davis and his cronies to try and figure out what was going on.

Dean watched while the two deputies gripped Sam's arms and turned him towards the house. Sam resisted. Both men tried pushing and pulling but Sam barely shifted. At first they used as little force as possible but they grew tired of that quickly. Deputy Lancaster shoved his hand into the back of Sam's shoulder blades and he stumbled a few feet.

"Hey," Dean said, jumping forward but Davis drew his sidearm.

"Let me talk to him," Dean said.

"You can tell him from here," Davis said.

Pushing back the surge of anger, Dean called out to his brother.

"Go with them, Sam. I'll sort this out and come get you."

Sam tossed a quick look over his shoulder but then he wobbled again and Dean's stomach tightened. As soon as the opportunity arose, he was going to kill everybody. When Myers and Lancaster prodded him this time, Sam went with them.

Once they disappeared to the opposite side of the house, Dean turned back towards Sheriff Davis and the other man.

"Now, what?" Dean said.

"I'm going to make this simple for you, Dean," the Sheriff said. "We're going to keep Sam for a while. Nothing bad'll happen to him. Well, nothing bad unless you stop doing what you're told."

"Don't threaten him. Gun or not, I'll take you right here."

"Settle down, son. No one wants to hurt anyone. But, you have to understand something…our little berg here is under attack. We need a hunter that's going to stay a while, not fix the first problem and leave the rest."

"Your lips are moving but I'm not hearing anything."

Davis scowled before taking a breath then he said, "A couple years ago, there was an electrical storm that…it spread across the state like nothing anyone's ever seen before. After that, Ranch Head started seeing some strange things, some unexplained deaths and it took some time before we realized we were under attack. We put together a coalition, started fighting where we could. Sometimes hunters came to help. They'd kill the werewolf or the wendigo or the aswang and then they'd go. Just abandon us to whatever monster comes next. The vampires you killed yesterday are just another horror in a long list of horrors."

Thinking about Samuel Colt's gate, Dean said, "Okay, so you want us to figure out what's going on, find out why this place is targeted. All you had to do was tell us. Sam and I…"

"No. Not you and Sam…just you. We watched you both and we want you…to stay here. You'll help us with the immediate threats while you figure out the bigger problem. As long as you do that, Sam stays nice and safe and cozy."

"You're dreaming if you think we're agreeing to that."

Davis shook his head. Taking off his brown, uniform hat, he rubbed his head then put the hat back on.

"You act like you have a choice. This isn't a choice. It's a reality that you need to get used to. Your brother stays with us while you hunt and that's it."

"You don't get it. My brother and I hunt together. I need him watching my back so separating us is just stupid. And the other thing you don't get is that the minute…the minute I find an inkling of a whisper of a tiny, little chance, I will end you and your little buddies and I will come back here and wipe out anyone standing between me and Sam. You do not want to start this, pal. I'm warning you now."

"You're wrong, Dean. Because if you fight us, don't obey, your brother gets hurt. And if we need to teach you a lesson, we'll use him to get the job done. And if someone doesn't make a call every day at the right time with the right word then it's over, he'll be dead before you ever find him."

"Find him?"

"He won't be here. That would just be careless. But, don't worry, he'll be someplace nice, someplace safe."

Fury tensing every muscle, Dean wanted to tell Davis that he and Sam had made a career of helping people, that it was the family business, that blackmail wasn't necessary. But, he could see the disdain on the sheriff's face. He could feel the finality. Nothing he said would change anyone's mind so he'd have to play along and plot on his own. His ace remained in Sam because his brother would heal and then his captors would find they have a tiger in their living room.


	2. Chapter 2

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

A/N: I am not a fan of "Weak Sam". As you read this you might start to think that I am. Try to stick with it, there are reasons for Sam's behavior.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 2

Sam Winchester woke up on the hard linoleum floor just as he had for the last week. His gray and blue flannel shirt lay next to him where it had fallen off during the night. His only source of blanket or pillow depending on the temperature in the kitchen, he had come to depend on that shirt as an odd source of comfort. Unlike the dark blue t-shirt and heavy jeans he still wore; those had become reminders of his captivity. He hadn't changed his clothes since his capture. On one occasion, he had been locked in a laundry room where he stood naked while he washed his belongings, which had been weird and uncomfortable. The washed clothes, warm from the dryer, made the experience worth it, but it still just reminded him of his situation.

As he slowly emerged from sleep, he groaned softly. Enough time had passed that he didn't expect to feel comfortable or rested or clean. But, it hadn't been long enough that he was used to the surroundings. It still took a minute to look around, recognize the cold kitchen and feel the despair flood through him. As he pulled himself up, he sighed and leaned his back against the wall. The chain on his ankle rattled against the floor and scratched painfully against the raw flesh.

He pulled his knees up, waiting for the inevitable. He needed to use the bathroom but that wasn't going to happen until someone else woke up. Ignoring the sharp tang of body odor permeating his skin, he closed his eyes.

He hated the gnawing hunger that stayed with him all the time. Providing cereal in the morning, and water a couple times a day allowed his captors to keep him alive but that was about it. He stumbled more than he should, sometimes from dizziness, sometimes his legs just quit. Occasionally he wondered if the head injury he sustained on the first day of his captivity was more serious than he thought, but he dismissed that idea. Instead, he blamed minimal sustenance and the daily work for his weakened state.

Forcing himself to concentrate on something other than his miserable conditions, Sam wondered what menial labor he'd tackle that day. Every morning, Eddie and Ava would give him a job to complete. Yesterday, he'd repaired a sagging section of the front porch. Some supports beneath it had weakened from weather so he'd replaced them and rebuilt the corner to make it sturdy.

Day by day, he completed jobs that they had neglected or were too lazy to do themselves, and while it bothered him to help his captors, he preferred staying busy to inactivity. The arrangement worked well enough, at least until Dean rescued him.

One of his captors, Eddie Brennan strode into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. He rubbed his bare belly, the long black hairs covering it popped back up as his hand passed over. With a paunch and stark, white skin, he stopped a few feet from Sam and scowled.

"You're gross," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I'm gross," Sam said, his tone overlaid with irony.

Eddie stood about 5'10' with unkempt black hair that always looked greasy. His beady, black eyes reminded Sam of a carrion pigeon.

Ava Brennan walked in next. She gave Sam a cursory glance, slid her hand over her husband's shoulder and kept on walking. She left through the back door without speaking. Eddie watched her go with a hungry expression.

Ava was probably ten years younger than Eddie. She was about his height with a tiny waist and good curves. Wearing snug jeans and a sweater that dropped low on her breasts, she strode through the room deliberately ignoring them.

Sam used the wall for support and stood up slowly. He steadied himself refusing to appear weak, and waited for Eddie to release him.

"I'm going to get dressed," Eddie said.

Sam sighed. He needed the bathroom and he wanted the cereal.

Ava walked back inside. She stalked over to Sam and put her hands on his chest. She leaned in and sniffed him slowly while she pressed her body against his. She rubbed her breasts enticingly against him but he just felt nauseous at the attention. Sam pushed her back.

"Get off me," he said, shoving with both hands. This wasn't the first time she had tried something like this and it infuriated him.

She laughed and rested her hands on his hips.

"If you keep pushing me away like that I'm going to think you like boys."

Sam rolled his eyes with a scowl to match.

"Fine. You stink anyway," she said with disdain. "If Eddie didn't need you to get going on that wood outside, I'd throw you in the shower and then I'd see how much you don't like me. I bet with the right stimulation," she licked her lips, "I could get you to like me just fine."

"When's the Sheriff coming back?" Sam said. He hadn't seen Duke Davis in a few days.

"What do you care? Right now there's some chopping to do. And I know you're already thinking that an axe is a wonderful weapon but, you can forget about that."

Ava unchained his ankle. Sam thought about attacking her. He could knock her out and be free of the house in moments but he didn't try. Failure would have bigger consequences than those he'd feel himself. The sheriff had planted a few fail safes to keep him in line. Sam needed to remember that, at least for the moment.

"Let's go. Outside. You need to earn your keep."

"What am I earning except some corn flakes?" Sam said.

"And you're grateful for them, aren't you?"

She pointed towards the back door.

"Wait, wait," Sam said. "Bathroom."

He didn't expect to get breakfast anymore but he didn't want to piss himself.

Ava stopped with her hands on her hips and narrowed eyes. Eddie walked in, wearing blue jeans, a plain button down shirt and work boots. He chuckled as he rubbed his pudgy chin.

"What's going on here?" Eddie said then to Ava. "Did you feed him?"

"He made me mad," she said. "Started making demands. No cereal until he learns some manners. But, I guess you have to take him to the bathroom."

Eddie shook his head with a smile, apparently amused by his wife's antics. Sam stood waiting. Someplace inside him he wondered why he didn't take any action but the idea refused to take root.

"Hey," Ava said. She moved in front of Sam, putting her back to Eddie. "I'm going to take a stroll downstairs if you can't behave."

Sighing at her words, he nodded. He didn't want her in the basement. Besides threatening to feed Dean to the next monster, Davis had one more way to keep Sam from escaping; a teenager named Kristen Navarro. Deputy Myers had arrested her for driving with an open container of beer. Instead of running her through the legal system, the sheriff decided she could provide some leverage against Sam. He locked her up in a cage in the basement of Eddie's house.

Sam's made one escape attempt the day after being captured. It was ill planned and ill timed. He was suffering from a concussion after the car accident and he had been weak and dizzy. His vision hadn't returned to normal. Eddie and Ava caught him before he reached the front door.

That same day, Eddie introduced Sam to Kristen. He had walked him down the carpeted steps with a gun at his back. They landed in a finished room that looked like it would be used for entertaining except that all the furniture had been shifted to make room for a large, metal frame. The girl inside had begged to be released but Eddie never spoke to her, just told Sam that her safety depended on him.

Her pleas for release, her confusion and fear had tightened his belly and made him feel sick.

Ava's threat brought that feeling back.

Ignoring her self-satisfied smirk, Sam followed Eddie out of the kitchen and down a narrow hall. He used the bathroom then came back out without speaking.

"You shouldn't piss her off," Eddie said. He pressed a bottle of water into Sam's hand. "That'll have to do for now."

Sam rubbed his eyes then drained the bottle. Eddie pointed and Sam walked towards the living room and into the kitchen.

Ava waited near the back door. She leaned against the door jamb with her arms folded and a knowing grin.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Dean clutched the Taurus in one hand while he pushed open the wood door with the other. A creaking hinge announced his arrival and he scowled. With the advantage of surprise lost, he rushed in, searching in each direction for the black dogs hiding inside the old warehouse. The night before a young couple had been chased while taking a late night walk. Both of them described seeing glowing eyes that hung in the air combined with the odor of old garbage and a menacing growl that seemed to surround them.

The description matched werewolves and black dogs. There was no full moon so he eliminated werewolves.

As he spun from one side to the other, trying to watch every direction at once, he cursed Duke Davis and the rest of the Ranch Head police force. He needed a partner, someone to watch his back but the sheriff and Deputy Myers chose to wait outside and shoot silver bullets at anything that emerged.

From the dark he heard a low growl on his left side. He turned slowly knowing that black dogs traveled in small packs. He didn't want to attack one while three others jumped him. The red eyes sent a chill through him even as he fired. Letting off three shots he thrilled at the grunt and yelp knowing he hit one.

Heavy thumps barreled at him from behind. Dean spun again, found the eyes and fired. Three more silver bullets expelled. The beast cried out even as it thudded to the ground sending up dust.

Dean moved backward, turning silently as he listened for others. Civilians mistook black dogs for ghosts or spirits because they blended into the dark completely. They seemed to appear and disappear like ghosts. But, Dean knew better. They were solid beings that had adapted over millennia to stalk and hunt with near invisibility.

He heard a soft rumble behind him. Clutching the Taurus and knowing he had a back-up in his pocket, he spun again, holding his breath as he searched through the heavy darkness for red eyes. It took a moment before he spied them, higher than the rest meaning a much larger animal. Dean took aim. He heard another one moving on his right side. He dove to the left, firing as he did. A deafening yowl rose up then the thumping of paws against cement and he knew he'd only injured it. He yelled out, dropping the gun, when his hand tore open.

Dean rolled, putting the pain away for now, knowing he needed to put distance between himself and, at least, two monsters. He reached into his pocket while he moved, trying to tug the other gun free. His pant leg ripped near his knee then he felt this skin tear. Scrambling backwards, red eyes bore down on him.

He managed to get the gun out. He fired wildly, no longer certain where the monsters were. From another direction he heard more gun blasts. Sam? The thud of another dead dog hit the ground. Then he heard another burst, the last yelp and a thump against the floor.

Silence rained down, oppressive and final as Dean pushed himself off the ground. He searched for Sam, expecting to see his overly tall brother loping towards him. Instead he found Brian Myers and Duke Davis, flashlights illuminating their way as they approached.

"You all right, Winchester?" Brian said. Hovering somewhere in his twenties, the deputy was tall with a solid build and short, brown hair.

"Is that all of them?" Duke said.

"Should be," Dean said. "If there were any left, we'd still be fighting."

"Lights," Deputy Mark Lancaster called out.

A moment later they were blinded as the warehouse glowed from the overhead fluorescent lamps.

Duke scowled as he looked around. "Where are they?"

"They disappear in light. Look over there," Dean pointed towards one of the carcasses. "Look just above where you think it would be."

Duke tilted his head then squinted. Brian did the same thing.

"I'll be damned," Duke said when he spotted it.

The dog lay on its side, like a ghost hovering just below the peripheral. Its enormous head revealed a tongue hanging against the cement. As Duke looked around, his eyes grew wider.

"What do we do now?" Brian said, wonder in his voice.

"Burn them. We got to drag them out back, cover them with salt and gasoline."

"I thought that salt was something about spirits," Brian said.

"Black dogs are dark spirits, like demons but they're physical like werewolves. We salt, we burn. It's going to smell bad so neighbors will complain."

"We need to get you patched up," Duke said.

The three of them walked out the back door of the warehouse where a fire unit sat. Dean limped along, wincing at the pull on his leg. He held his hand cupped closed to his chest. Duke directed him to the firefighters waiting at the truck. One of them cleaned Dean's hand and leg. The paramedic was professional and gentle, and neither injury required stitches, but Dean cursed out loud at the burn of disinfectant. The pain echoed through his body and reminded him that he needed Sam.

When he rejoined Duke and the deputies, Dean practically spit out the instructions for dealing with the dead dogs.

"Settle down," the Sheriff told him.

"I'm tore up because I don't have a partner," Dean said, his anger spilling over.

"You cleared out the Smyth's shapeshifter on your own. And that rawhead that set up shop in the school basement. You just got unlucky tonight."

"No, I got lucky the other times."

"We're done talking about this, Dean. Let's get these corpses taken care of."

The Sheriff walked away from him and started directing the other men. Dean spent the next couple of hours watching them.

They blocked off a perimeter before dragging the beasts behind the building. Dean helped them find the four bodies but refused to help any further. When it was over, they left Mark and the firefighters to watch the blaze while Dean, Brian and Duke huddled together at Millie's Diner.

"I notice you guys decided to brave the scary monsters," Dean said after the waitress walked away.

Brian laughed as he sat back in the booth. Duke shot Dean a quick glare before a smile broke his craggy face.

"Saved your ass," Duke said.

You put it on the line, you might as well take care of it, Dean thought but didn't say.

"You did good work though," Duke said. "We haven't seen a black dog in a couple years. Getting four all at once was a lot to handle."

"It's just a band aid and you know it," Dean said. "We need to get the town protected so the monsters stop coming."

"Aren't you working on that?"

"It'd go faster with Sam."

Duke rolled his eyes while Brian diverted his attention to some corner of the restaurant. After a moment, Duke leaned into the table.

"I get that boy a computer and he'll be sending out smokescreens faster than a chicken pecking feed. You got plenty of time between these…incidents…to do the research so don't blow smoke up my ass with needing your brother for it."

"Look, I've been looking. No one wants this to be over more than me. But, I'm not finding what you need. Calling Bobby Singer would make a difference."

"It's not going to happen," Duke said.

The waitress, a co-ed with bad teeth, dropped off beers. Brian pushed one of them towards Dean giving him a shrug.

Shaking with anger, Dean twisted off the top and swallowed half of it before slamming the bottle down on the table.

"Take it easy," Duke said. "Drink your beer, keep your head and I'll give you a little treat tomorrow. Take you out to see your brother. You can check him out, see that he's healthy and maybe brain storm for a while about the bigger problem."

Dean hesitated with the beer against his lips. Excitement surged up inside him. He hadn't seen Sam since they were captured and only had a photograph to prove that his brother was still alive.

"Deal," Dean said.

While the three of them drank, he glanced towards Brian then back to Duke. In another context, he could like them. With a calm exterior and a sharp mind, Brian would have made a good hunter. Duke's confidence and dedication to his town's safety made him a solid leader. A part of Dean respected them but remembering that he was a prisoner, separated from Sam and forced into labor annihilated any positive impressions he allowed to creep in.

"When's the baby due?" Duke said to Brian.

"The due date is next week but everyone is telling us that first babies come when they want," Brian said.

"God pushes them out of the oven when they're done," Duke said. "Right, Dean?"

Dean swallowed more beer then shrugged. "I know nothing about babies."

"I'm just hoping she doesn't go into labor next weekend," Brian said. "Cowboys are playing the Air Force."

"Dallas?" Dean said, wondering if it was some kind of exhibition game.

"Wyoming Cowboys, college game."

The three of them stayed at the restaurant for a couple of hours talking about sports and a new bar that was opening in downtown Ranch Head. Davis stopped drinking after one beer and when it was time to leave, he drove both of them. He dropped Brian off first. The young deputy ambled slowly up the walk then waved from his front door before going inside. Davis drove to the hotel across from the police station next, and let Dean out. They both knew he wouldn't try to leave town without Sam.

Dean walked into the place Duke arranged for him. His laptop was sitting on the table, still open to a research page about protection spells. Davis had run the wireless through the police computers so someone was always monitoring his activity. If he reached out to Bobby or anyone else through the computer, they would know. If he attempted anything unrelated to the current monster, or finding a protection spell, they would know.

The room spread out into a kitchen, living room and bedroom. Duke said he deserved a suite for all his hard work. Dean hated it. Normally, he'd revel at staying someplace decent for a change but he didn't know how Sam was living and it bothered him. Guilt reared up each time he walked in but Duke insisted he stay there. Knowing he didn't have a choice only frustrated him.

Heading to the bathroom, Dean stripped down to check his injuries. Both of the bandages remained white and clean so he knew the bleeding had stopped. The ache pulsing through his limbs made him tired though and all he wanted was a shower and sleep. He stared into the mirror, seeing the same helpless man staring back and he slammed his fist against the counter. The vibration shot through his arm. He closed his eyes against the pain, getting it under control before he strode back into the living room.

Sitting down at the computer, he wished he could call Bobby knowing that their old friend would open up some books and have the spell or the ward within hours. Angry again, he flipped the computer lid closed and slumped back in the chair.

He needed to convince Duke to let him make that call.

As he stared into the empty room he thought about seeing Sam the next day. Wanting to be ready, Dean had attached a holster in the wheel well of Duke's police car a couple of days after getting captured. It had taken almost fifteen minutes to get it secured and he almost missed his chance. Both Brian and Mark walked out of the station just as he was finishing but he managed to cover and they'd forgotten about it. In the morning, he intended to slide a gun inside.

When he saw Sam they'd fight their way to freedom. He couldn't imagine why Sam hadn't already escaped. A couple humans in an old farm house shouldn't have stopped him for so long. But, once they were together in one place, they'd get away. Leave Ranch Head to fend for itself. The town deserved it for crashing the Impala, injuring Sam and kidnapping both of them.

After getting Sam, they'd need to get the Impala. He figured they'd use Mark Lancaster as a hostage then storm the police impound yard. Sam might want to sneak back into town later or something, but Dean wasn't leaving without 'baby'. The sheriff stole her away the first day and Dean was growing antsy being away from her for so long.

He rubbed his face and stood up. Walking into the kitchenette, he grabbed a bottle of beer from the small refrigerator then leaned with his back to the counter.

"Tomorrow, Sam," he said out loud.


	3. Chapter 3

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 3

Sam strode around Ava, careful to keep his distance and glad to be outside. He pushed through the screen door, down the two steps and out into the yard. He inhaled the pine scent of the giant trees surrounding the small house, taking long breaths to clear his head. Beneath a shorn tree lay a pile of branches and near that, a stump and a narrow axe.

Eddie pointed towards the project.

"We need that broken up for the fireplace and the wood stove."

"How much?" Sam said. He chopped wood once when he was a teenager in Seattle and Bobby had assigned him the chore of chopping wood a few times over the years, and he enjoyed the rhythm of it.

"We don't need heat on the main floor," Eddie said. "It's all hooked up through the utilities. But, that little girl in the cellar does. Temps are dropping pretty fast around here. The wood stove down there could make a big difference to her."

"Okay," Sam said.

"Come here," Eddie said.

Sam drew closer and Ava crouched in front of him. She snapped a manacle around his ankle. Sam winced. The metal rubbed against his raw skin. Visually, he followed the chain to where it was secured around a post in the ground. Like a leash, for a dog, he thought.

"I know you want to kill us with that axe, don't you? But, you're not even going to try." Ava said.

"Hey," Eddie said to Ava. "Knock it off."

Sam wondered at Eddie's order. It wasn't like him to chastise her.

Ava pouted as she slid into a lawn chair. She slowly crossed her long legs then pushed brown hair off her shoulders. Eddie plunked down next to her. Neither of them held weapons and Sam was sure he could take their heads if they were sitting a few feet closer. He measured the distance in his head and guessed he could throw the axe and take one of them but he wouldn't get them both, and then he wouldn't have an axe to break the chain off his leg.

He picked up a thick chunk of wood and set it on the stump. He drew back and slammed the axe down chopping it in half. He knocked one half off and set the other in place. He swung again, splitting it. He tossed the two pieces. He spent a long time repeating those same actions. His back ached, his arms and legs shook with fatigue. The lack of food and water combined with the chopping made him weak and unsteady. A part of his brain ordered him to stop but another part refused. If he didn't complete the task they wouldn't warm Kristen's cage. He coaxed more effort out of his weakening body.

The sun grew brighter and sweat poured off of him despite the chill in the air. He glanced at the stack of timber still waiting to be split. Another hour and he'd have it done. Taking deep breaths he tried to gain control, thought he managed it until his legs collapsed. He grunted in surprise as he dropped to his knees, the axe slipped from his fingers and clunked on the ground.

Leaning back, he turned his face towards the sky but his eyes were closed.

He hissed, jerking forward when Eddie kicked him in the side.

"Who told you to stop?" Eddie said.

Sam barely heard him through the ringing in his ears.

"Give him water. Thirty minutes rest." Sam turned towards the direction of Duke's voice.

He stayed on the ground, still kneeling, his arm wrapped around his throbbing side

"He can do better. He's lazy," Eddie said.

"He has limits, Eddie," Duke said. "Even I can see he's dehydrated. Did you feed him this morning?"

Eddie shrugged.

"We're not supposed to be killing him," Duke said. "I picked up some supplies on my way over so grab him a sandwich and some water."

"He's living off me. He can get his own stuff," Eddie said.

"Don't be an ass. You're getting paid."

Sam looked up at Duke who was looking down on him with disgust. Duke had made it clear that Sam was about as significant as larvae in his world.

Duke grabbed Sam by the back of his navy t-shirt. The v neck kept him from being strangled as the sheriff dragged him to the bottom of the tree and deposited him at the base beside the chain that held him there. Sam landed hard. Anger pushed against the pain and he lunged upward but Duke easily shoved him back down.

"I thought you were tough," Duke said. "At least I know I picked the right brother."

"You can't keep us here forever," Sam said, frustration biting outward. "Me, Dean, that poor girl in the basement, you can't keep us forever."

But, he wondered. Maybe they could keep him. With no hope of escape, maybe they could hold him. Eventually, Dean would grow tired of being blackmailed and would leave without him.

Sam heard the screen door slam then Eddie dropped two bottles of water on the ground in front of him. A paper plate with a sandwich fell beside it.

"Half an hour. A real lunch break," Duke said.

"Then finish chopping," Eddie said. "When you're done out here the front porch trim needs repainting."

Duke turned away from Sam to address Ava.

"Give him another sandwich later. Keep him hydrated. I'm bringing Dean here tomorrow and I don't want him looking like he's near death."

"Where are you going?" Ava said.

Sam listened to their conversation with intent. Excitement built inside him at the news that he would see Dean. He needed to tell him about Kristen, and he really wanted to see his brother.

"We got a black dog problem. They're some kind of invisible monster. Dean thinks he knows where they nest." Duke said.

"Can't you stay with Eddie and babysit for a while?" Ava said. "I want to go into town. See people. Maybe do some shopping."

"Not today. I need you to stay here. Besides it's dangerous right now. Just be careful until we get this new problem settled."

"I'm bored." Ava complained.

"Dean is working on a protection spell. Once he's done with that, it'll dispel any monsters that are here and keep new ones from coming."

Sam doubted that. They might be able to use wards or a spell to return Ranch Head to normal. But, that would still leave them as susceptible as anyplace else to supernatural threats. If a spell existed to ward against everything, he and Dean would be out of a job.

Sam opened one of the waters, determined not to draw attention to himself. He needed the fluid but he didn't want to get caught up in their internal issues.

"I'm not asking for a weekend. Just a few hours," Ava said.

Duke glared at her then stalked towards the house without speaking. Eddie followed him.

When the kitchen door clattered shut, Ava pushed off the lawn chair. She sauntered over to Sam then sank easily on to the ground in front of him. She pushed her hair away from her face and cocked her head.

"Duke can be a jerk," she said.

Sam stayed quiet.

"You're no fun," she said. "But, your lips on that bottle are giving me ideas."

Sam drained the water. He picked up the sandwich, his stomach growling and his mouth salivating. It was the first food he'd had, other than corn flakes, in too long. Ava's presence made the turkey and cheese taste wrong but he didn't stop eating.

Ava scooted closer to him. She put her hands on his knees, grinning when he jerked away from her. She lifted the chain near where the manacle closed around his ankle. She gave a short yank that crashed into his bruised, scraped skin. Sam grunted softly.

She jerked on the chain again and the pain hit him sharp and fast. Sam drew back, cupping his hand and shoving it into the side of her face. He had been careful not to hit her full strength. He could easily have crushed her cheek bone or broken her nose if he wanted to. She tipped over, with a shocked gasp. He stood up, surprised he had hit her.

Trembling with adrenaline, he watched her drag herself to her feet with her hand covering her reddened skin. Pained tears shimmered in her eyes.

Duke loomed up behind Ava, the menace of him swept through the air. He grabbed her shoulders in his two great hands and moved her to the side.

Duke grabbed Sam next. Sam seized his shirt in both hands but the Sheriff possessed all the momentum. He slammed Sam into the tree and shock reverberated through his body sending a black mist across his vision. Duke dropped him and Sam grunted as he worked to keep standing.

"You bastard," Ava said from over Duke's shoulder.

Duke whirled on her. "I told you to let him eat. I told you to leave him alone."

"I was just talking to him. And he hit me."

"Just keep her away from me," Sam said.

"You don't make demands, Sam," Duke said. "You try anything like that again and the next time we go after a monster, maybe Dean won't have back up. Maybe he'll get caught in the crossfire. Do you understand me?"

Sam held his breath, pushing back the retort clawing up his throat. He nodded.

Eddie stomped across the yard, pushing in from behind Duke. His eyes were narrowed, with a glare split across his lips.

"I'm going to kill you," he shouted at Sam.

Duke pushed him back.

"No, you're not," he said. "You're going to leave him alone. He'll finish the wood and he'll clean up the trim on the porch and you will not lay one hand on him. Do you understand me?"

"He hit my wife."

"And after Dean leaves tomorrow, you can get even. But, not before. Understand?"

Eddie's eyes glinted at the sheriff's words. A thin smile spread across his face. Eddie lurched at him again but Duke pushed him back.

"Do what you want but not until after Dean gets his visit. I'll be back tomorrow," Duke said.

Sam exhaled softly. Dread clawed at him as he slowly walked over to the rogue water bottle. Carefully moving around the chain on his leg, he picked up the bottle and drained it, the liquid cool against his dry throat.

By late afternoon, Sam stood on a short ladder. His body ached. He barely remembered a time when he wasn't beaten or bruised so he had learned to deal with pain, had learned to compartmentalize it in order to keep functioning.

But, that didn't make it pleasant.

Eddie walked across the creaky porch. He stopped next to the ladder and looked up with his hands on his hips. Sam looked down at him wondering if he could take Eddie's head off with the paint scraper.

"Get down. You're done for the day."

Sam stepped down carefully. As his feet landed, he amused himself with the knowledge that he was still looking down at Eddie.

"Get in there. Take a shower," Eddie said. "Duke wants you cleaned up for tomorrow."

Eddie nodded towards the front door.

Sam pointed at the chain on his ankle. He was still attached to the porch railing. Eddie smirked but he released him then shoved him roughly towards the door. Sam stumbled but he regained his footing as he passed over the threshold.

Eddie followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

"Here's the deal," Eddie said. "You shower, change your clothes and come back out here without any trouble. You get all excited and try anything, it won't end well, understand?"

"Okay," Sam said. He was tired; of being threatened, of being used, of being abused.

Eddie chuckled. "Still think you're tough, huh? Hurry up."

Standing straighter, he stalked into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, Sam leaned against it, giving himself a moment. Dizziness flooded his brain and he squeezed his fists, trying to push it away. When the moment passed, he opened his eyes and noticed a stack of clothes on the sink. Slowly walking across the tiled floor, he stopped and shuffled through them finding light, cotton bottoms and a t-shirt.

"Pajamas," he said.

After a week in the same clothes, he felt a touch of gratitude start to invade. Anger followed instantly knowing he owed them nothing. Providing relief after letting him stew in his own filth didn't earn his captors anything.

He looked in the mirror. A pale, bruised face looked back. Dark circles cut deep beneath his eyes. He sighed, touching the puffy skin. He winced, turning his head back and forth to examine the rest of the damage. He assured himself that it was nothing that wouldn't heal.

On the counter opposite from the clothing, he found bandages, gauze, antibiotic cream and a bottle of prescription penicillin. He didn't relish the idea of kneeling or bending to treat his abraded ankles but he supposed it was better than getting an infection. The night before he'd noticed some swelling under the skin and knew something bad was building there, so cleaning and covering the wounds needed to happen.

Steadying himself, he carefully peeled off the beaten t-shirt then moved over to the shower and turned it on. A spark started inside him at the sound and the warmth. Sprinkles of goosebumps covered his skin. He carefully settled on to the closed toilet seat then pulled of his boots. He moved slowly at first but the pain grew with each movement so he hurried the process, preferring to get it over with.

Getting out of his jeans was easier. Sam had lost enough weight to let them slide off his hips then he followed that up with his black briefs.

Standing up, he stepped into the hot water. The spray pummeled his skin at first but within moments, he sighed, relief washing over him. He needed this, needed the heat and the quiet and feel of it. A bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo sat on a small shelf. He started with his hair. The aroma of citrus and spice filled his senses and he took his time, feeling like he needed to scrub deep to get rid of the oil and dirt that he'd been living with. Next he used the soap to clean the rest of his body, going slow and being thorough. With zero idea of when he might get to wash again, he decided to savor the time.

Sam grimaced at the sting as water and soap streamed over his ankles. His chafed and grated skin prickled under the onslaught but he forced himself to stay still. He gathered his courage first then lathered up his hands and set one foot on the edge of the tub. He scrubbed the open wound, holding his breath against the pain. Wanting to ignore the other leg, he knew he couldn't, so he attacked that one next. It wasn't as bad as the first one but he was glad when it was over.

Standing back up, Sam leaned against the wall of the shower and let the water wash over him. He remained that way until the heat started to cool and knew it was time to get out. Eddie had remained quiet, not rushing him and Sam appreciated it.

As he caught himself feeling gratitude again, he cursed.

"Stockholm Syndrome, my ass," he said. "I'm killing everybody before this is over."

Sam dried off, dressed his wounds and put on the new clothes. The soft cotton felt good against his skin but having bare feet made him uncomfortable. Looking towards the floor, he knew he needed to do something with his old things but seeing them puddled there, dirty, smelly and battered, he didn't know what that should be.

Sudden pounding on the bathroom door startled him.

"What," he barked.

"Hurry up in there," Eddie said.

Sam hated the idea of opening the door. He didn't want to face Eddie or the kitchen floor or the unending threat of harm to him or Kristen. The bathroom was warm and comfortable and he wanted to stay there.

Eddie pounded again.

"Okay, okay," Sam said.

Forcing himself to move, he pulled the door open.

"Look at you, all fresh and pretty. Come on, there's food."

Sam glanced down at himself. He was wearing the new pajamas. His hair was wet hair and his feet were bare. A shiver of discomfort trembled through him.

Feeling useless, frozen by the potential risk, he followed Eddie into the kitchen. Ava was sitting at the dining room table.

"Sit down," she said.

"What is this?" Sam said as pulled a chair out. The aroma of fried hamburgers filled the kitchen. A green salad sat in a clear bowl. He could see red tomatoes and cucumbers mixed in. His stomach rumbled with hunger. The sandwich from the afternoon had barely touched the hunger he'd been living with.

"Normal meal," Ava said. "You sit at the table, eat meat and veggies. I cooked."

"Bring Kristen up here. Give her the meal," Sam said.

"Well, I'd do that for you, Sam, but I think it would make you do something stupid," Eddie said. "Right now, you can't get her out and you know what'll happen when you try and fail. But, if she was sitting here, you'd think you could do it and then we'd have to swat you down."

"You seem to think we're not taking care of that girl," Ava said. "We've been feeding her, three good meals every day. We gave her a cot, gave her a tablet with a bunch of movies downloaded. I delivered twenty or so books to her from my own bookshelf. She's getting better than you, Sam. The only time she suffers is when you disobey. And when this is all over, when your brother figures out how to block this town from monsters, well, then Kristen will go home to her family."

"She's a prisoner. She's stuck in a cage so don't try to make it sound like Club Med," Sam said. He waved his arm around the kitchen. "What's the point of all this?"

"Relax," Ava said.

She stood up and sauntered over to the stove. She scooped hamburgers dripping with melted cheese out of the pan and set them on a plate. Carrying them plus the bowl of salad, she set the items down on the table. Eddie delivered a plate with lettuce leaves and tomato as well as a bag of hamburger buns. He settled into the chair beside his wife.

"Your brother loves cheeseburgers," Ava said. "Duke eats with him almost every night."

Sam hated her words, hated the idea that Dean would socialize with their captors. He didn't believe it, except part of him did, and he hated that too.

"Dean is comfortable working for us," she said. "But, he still needs to see a healthy little brother tomorrow."

The aroma of the food overpowered Sam's retort. He thought about attacking Eddie first then taking Ava down. Even weakened, he might be able to do it. After they were dead, he could head down to the cellar, find a blowtorch or a hacksaw and get Kristen out of the cage. If it all worked out and he managed to do it fast enough, they could be on the main road and hitching towards town. But, a call to Davis might get missed. Or something might go wrong and slow Sam down. If he failed to get to Kristen, what would happen to her? What would happen to Dean?


	4. Chapter 4

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 4

After dinner, Sam felt overly full. He knew his body had adjusted to minimum rations when one cheeseburger and a bowl of green salad made him feel bloated. Exhaustion hung off his limbs. His thoughts were slow and muddled.

Eddie asked him if he was all right and Sam felt a distant alarm go off in his brain. He managed to dribble out some words, wanting to know what they'd done to him but no one answered the question. Eddie told him to relax. Ava told him to enjoy the feeling.

Somewhat detached from his body, Sam had to admit that the constant pain radiating through his muscles had vanished.

When Eddie wrapped an arm around Sam's waist to help him stand, Sam's knees buckled. Both of them stumbled before Ava joined in to help steady them. Sam laughed. He did not giggle because Winchesters might utter a hearty guffaw but they never giggled. Eddie and Ava started maneuvering him out of the kitchen and down the hall. Assuming they were heading to the bathroom and wondering if he would get another shower, Sam worked at not falling down.

The panicky sensation of knowing he'd been drugged hovered at the fringes of Sam's mind but mostly, he just felt loose and distant, as if it was someone else being manipulated. He didn't care…about anything. He wanted to dance, or sleep, or find a vampire that needed decapitating. He couldn't decide.

Eddie pushed while Ava tugged him into a bedroom he hadn't seen before. A double, maybe queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, two dressers and a desk filled up more space. A mirrored sliding door on one wall was probably a closet. Ava pulled the bedding back while Eddie pushed him to sit down. Sam obeyed, compliantly following their directions even if his mind kept asking him "why". For some reason, whatever they said, he cooperated.

"Must be the drugs," he said, explaining his behavior to himself.

"Yeah, okay," Eddie said. "Lay down."

He did.

When Ava took his arm and locked his wrist into some kind of restraint, he let her. She covered him up with the blankets after that and it was soft and comfortable in the big bed.

"Close your eyes and go to sleep," Ava said.

She gently stroked his hair and Sam started drifting. Part of him wanted to fight, to refuse the peace offered by the warm bed but most of him surrendered.

"Shsh," Ava said.

"That'll do it," Eddie said. "If Duke wants him to look better, he should have told us sooner."

"A good night's rest will help," Ava said.

Sam listened to them as if he were eavesdropping from a distance. A fading thought that he was being used or manipulated floated through his mind but he couldn't force himself to care. Sleep beckoned like a siren's song and he followed comfort into the dark.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

At seven in the morning, Dean rubbed his face with one hand while he clutched a cup of coffee. He rode in the passenger side of the Sheriff's cruiser. Duke drove. Brian Myers sat in the backseat. No one spoke as they traveled down the two lane highway passing narrow turn offs that would lead to farm houses. In some cases, trees blocked the view but Dean knew the big, old homes were there, hiding away from the road.

Duke had explained that Sam would be brought to the same house where the two of them had been separated the week before. He said it wasn't safe for Dean to know where Sam was living.

"I give you that and you'll start thinking about escape. It's better for both us not to open that door," Duke said.

For the moment, Dean accepted it because he wanted to see Sam. He'd abide by their rules while he mentally mapped out the area.

Dean recognized the road that led to the big, three level house where he had agreed to Duke's terms. Just seeing it send a surge of anger through him. The Sheriff might believe he'd grown complacent, possibly even sympathetic to Ranch Head but he was wrong. Dean didn't care about the town or its people; not as much as he cared about Sam and their freedom. All he wanted was to reunite with Sam and escape. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill Duke or Brian but he'd do whatever was necessary to save his brother.

As soon as they left the main road, Duke pulled off to the shoulder, hovering between a ditch and the rocky pavement. Dean carefully set the coffee in the cup holder and stiffened, wondering if they planned to try and kill him there. Maybe the meeting with Sam was a ruse and they just needed to get him out of town. Maybe Sam was already dead.

"Relax, Dean," the Sheriff said and Dean hated how he always said that. As if a calm command would actually make anyone relax. "I just want to talk to you for a minute."

"You sure? This isn't just a good place to drop a body, is it?"

Duke chuckled before he shifted to lean against the driver's door.

"We're not going to kill you," he said. "I just want to lay down some ground rules. I know you're itching to see your brother and you're probably coming up with all sorts of ideas for grabbing him and breaking free. I understand that. I'd be doing the same thing if I was you. But, I think you can see my side of this too and I can't just let you leave. You're saving lives here. Ranch Head needs you until you can figure out how to keep the monsters out. You know that, right?"

"Old news," Dean said.

"All right then. This is what's going to happen...I'm going to drive to the old farmhouse where Sam is waiting for you. I'm going to give you fifteen minutes to assure yourself that he's in good shape. There won't be any time for catching up or making plans. When I say that it's time to go then we go…no extensions…no arguments. If you try anything then Brian will shoot your brother first. It sounds harsh, I know, but he's your weak spot. We both know that."

"You hurt Sam, you'll be dead before you…"

"No," Duke interrupted. "I said he'll shoot Sam first…you're second. It won't be a conversation. Are we clear?"

Dean swallowed back the fury raging through him. Duke and Brian had no idea who they were dealing with if they thought they could threaten Sam and get away with it.

"Understood," Dean bit out through clenched teeth.

"If it's too much for you…if you can't see him and behave, I can turn around now. Get you new pictures instead, maybe that video talking thing. I don't want to kill you, Dean."

Freezing up, Dean's breath hung heavy in his lungs. He shook his head slowly.

"I can do this."

"All right then," Duke said, the seriousness replaced with his usual agreeable tone.

Dean wished he could shoot him right then and the ferocity of it surprised him. Over the last week, he'd started to like the Sheriff and Brian and some of the others, at least a little bit. But, laying out the threat again, leveling his aim at Sam, infuriated Dean.

He flipped the visor down and looked into the mirror lodged there. Adjusting his posture allowed him to see Brian in the backseat. The young deputy with the expectant wife rubbed the back of his neck while he stared out the window. His lips were pressed together and his free hand was fisted tightly in his lap. Dean wondered if he would follow Duke's order.

Calming himself, he left the visor down while they rounded some curves on the dirt road. He remembered every detail of the first time he had been taken there, and recognized the farm house as it came into view.

Two people stood outside at the edge of the unpaved drive. Dean knew Eddie Brennan, a stocky man of medium height who looked like a weasel, a greasy weasel, in Dean's opinion. He had never met the female before but knew her name was Ava. She looked like an aging cheerleader. Eddie stood with his arm strategically dropped around Ava's hips. She leaned away from him, perched with most of her weight on one leg.

Duke stopped the car in front of them.

"Stay here," he said then stepped out of the car.

"Where's Sam?" Dean said to Brian.

"Probably in the house or maybe Eddie's car. Duke will bring him around."

"He better be in good shape."

The silver sedan belonging to Marco Rivera pulled in behind Duke's cruiser. The mayor stepped out on to the side of the road, patting down his dark hair as the wind tousled it. He strode without a glance towards Dean or Brian.

Duke reached out a hand to his boss and they shook but Dean thought that the sheriff looked unhappy. Rivera shook with his brother-in-law next then gave Ava a quick hug.

All four of them looked towards Dean and exchanged words. Dean flipped them off. As a group they scowled or frowned in varying degrees before looking back at each other.

Duke and Eddie spoke for another moment then Eddie pointed towards the side of the house. They started walking in that direction. Overgrown grass and a heavy willow tree made it difficult for them. When they disappeared from view, Brian said,

"They're getting him."

Dean guessed that too but he was watching Rivera and his sister. The mayor gestured in jabs with one finger while he spoke. Spittle flew from his lips. Ava watched him with her arms folded and a bland expression.

The siblings faded from Dean's attention when Duke guided Sam through the thick foliage. Sam stared at the ground, testing each step as he made it. Eddie followed behind them like a puppy.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Sam shifted, blinking his eyes and forcing the fog in his brain away. With his arms handcuffed behind him, it was hard to find a comfortable position on the low couch. Eddie and Ava had planted him in the dusty sitting room of the abandoned house and told him to stay there.

Whatever drugs they slipped him the night before lingered annoyingly in his system. Despite sleeping deeply, he felt the remnants like a hangover, keeping his thoughts jumbled and distant in his head.

Shifting again, still trying to ease the pressure on his shoulders and back, Sam looked up when he heard the front door clatter closed. Through the uniform squares of glass in the parlor doors, he watched the Sheriff and Eddie use a key then walk in.

Duke hesitated in the center of the room before he turned to Eddie.

"He looks half dead. What'd you do?"

"Just gave him some stuff. You wanted him to sleep, right?"

Duke eyes switched back and forth for a moment then he glared at Eddie.

"What was it?"

"The stuff Helen used to take for her cancer treatments. She was tired all the time when she took it."

"Scopolamine," Duke said.

Alarms sounded in Sam's tired brain but the panic stayed dull, refusing to trigger action.

As a hunter he knew Scopolamine as 'devil's breath'. He knew it could cause memory loss and some people claimed it could make people zombies and rob them of free will.

"Ava's been putting it in the cereal," Eddie said. "And she put it in the hamburger last night. All it did was keep Helen calm and she slept a lot. We figured it would keep him under control."

Duke shook his head and sighed.

Knowing he should be angry but weighed down with indifference, Sam said, "Being tired is a side effect, you moron. It's prescribed for nausea."

"So you won't puke, good for you," Eddie said.

Duke grabbed Eddie's arm and pulled him close. "Don't give it to him again," he said.

Shoving him away, Duke turned his attention back to Sam.

"How do you feel?" He said.

Still stunned to find out he'd been drugged since he was captured, it took a moment for Sam to understand the question. He glanced around then said, "I don't know."

"Well, pull yourself together. Dean can't know about this."

"Just tell him not to say anything. He does whatever you say," Eddie said.

Sam recoiled when Duke bent down, getting close enough that their noses almost touched.

"Do not tell Dean about the drugs. You tell him that you're tired but you're not hurt."

"Okay," Sam said but his brain taunted him with the words 'devil's breath', 'devil's breath', 'devil's breath'.

Duke stood back up.

"This is a babysitting job," he said to Eddie. "All you have to do is keep him alive. Stop with the crap."

"We have to do something for fun." Eddie said.

Sam reached the surge of anger that tried to rush up but it just wouldn't come.

"No. No you don't," Duke said. "The City is paying you to do a job, so just do it. No more drugs, no more screwing around. I mean it."

"Hey, you're the one that said to keep him weak. We were just following your orders."

"You're an idiot."

Eddie shrugged as if he didn't care but his reddened face proved Duke had embarrassed him.

Stalking over to the sofa, Duke grabbed Sam's chin between his fingers and shoved his head back and forth, looking closely at him. Sam pulled back, hating the contact and the stolen privilege.

"Your brother is going to pitch a fit when he gets a look at you," Duke said. "Stand up and let's get you out there."

Sam doubted that Dean would say anything about his appearance. Dean would be more interested in escaping.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Dean darted out of the car when he saw Sam, barely hearing the second door shut as Brian followed him.

"Damn it, Dean, slow down," Brian ordered.

Sam stumbled over something. Duke caught his arm, steadying him.

Stalking up the road, Dean only stopped when he heard Brian's gun cock.

"Wait or he'll take him away before you get any chance at all," Brian said.

Fighting his instincts, Dean stilled. Sam looked in his direction but his expression remained bland. The lack of any reaction scared him.

"Hey, you doing all right?" Dean called out.

Before Sam could answer, Duke moved between them.

Facing towards Dean, he said, "Come on over. There's a seat on the other side of the car."

Peripherally, Dean had already seen the wrought iron garden bench. He walked over to it but didn't sit. Brian followed taking his handcuffs off his belt when they stopped.

"Sit down and give me your hand," Brian said.

"Bite me," Dean said.

"You won't get to talk to him unless you do this our way," Brian said.

"I didn't agree to the handcuffs," Dean yelled to Duke.

"It's not your show, son," Duke said.

Maybe not, Dean thought, but he had anticipated something like this. A strategically placed handcuff key was tucked in the sleeve of his jacket. He also had a paperclip, just in case they found the key. Grudgingly, he put out his arm and allowed Brian to attach him to the arm of the bench.

Once he was secure, Duke said something to Sam who seemed to be listening but his face was slack and unchanging. Sam ambled slowly to the bench. Brian moved a few feet away while Duke and Eddie sauntered closer.

Dean noticed Ava and Marco slip away, going towards the house.

"You all want to back up," Dean said. "You hijacked our lives; you can give us some privacy."

"Sorry," Duke said. "We're staying put. If anyone knows how lethal you are, it's me. Not taking any chances you might decide to do something stupid."

Dean shifted back on the bench, giving himself more leverage against the handcuff. Gingerly he worked his fingers into the seam of his jacket.

"Are they backing you up on the hunting?" Sam said.

"They did last night. Mostly they just hover around waiting for an 'all clear'."

"They're going to get you killed."

"Don't underestimate me. What about you? How's your arm?"

Sitting heavily, Sam shook his head and fiddled with his hands for a moment.

"I hate being stopped like this…when your deal is counting down. I can't do anything to get you out of it."

"Sam, you can't…"

Dean stopped, taking a moment to study his brother. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and there were hollows at his cheeks. He doubted that Sam was ready for an attack on their captors. But, the brutal truth was, they didn't have many options.

"They treating you all right?" Dean said. "Where'd those clothes come from?"

"I don't know."

"I gave Duke your bag so you'd have stuff."

"I haven't seen it."

Sam fidgeted, rubbing his head and twitching like he was nervous. He kept looking around as if he couldn't focus on one thing.

Dean felt the lock click at his wrist and he shifted to cover the sound.

"Go for Eddie," Dean said, not waiting for Sam to move.

Diving towards Brian Myers, Dean slammed a hard punch into the deputy's face, sending him tumbling. Dean rolled towards the cruiser. He slid the gun out of the hidden holster and came up on his feet to find Duke pointing his service weapon at him. Dean propelled himself over the hood of the cruiser and landed smoothly on the other side. So, far no one had fired a shot.

When he landed, Dean took a quick inventory. Brian was lying on the ground, face down and not moving. Duke had taken cover behind Marco's car. Sam stood next to the bench, his head darting around as if looking for something, his hands clenched tight at his sides. Eddie popped his head up next to Duke's then ducked back down.

Furious to see his brother frozen, angry at him and worried too, Dean moved along the cruiser adjusting his plan mentally. He hoped to fire a few shots, grab Sam and make a run for it. They'd need a lot of luck but the only real threat was Duke so he just needed to keep him at bay while they escaped.

As he drew closer to Sam, Dean chanced a look over the car to find that Duke and Eddie had split up and were at opposite ends of the mayor's car. Eddie was inching closer to the bench.

Dean fired a shot to warn him back. Eddie yelled out in fear or protest, probably both and Sam leaped off the bench. He barreled towards Eddie and all Dean heard was a scream and the sound of scuffling gravel.

He darted from behind the car only to have Duke shoot at him, forcing him back. The noise of cursing and heavy breathing, the thunk of body blows, and the dusty mist filling the air punctuated that fight that Dean couldn't see. Normally, Eddie would have been easy prey but Sam looked like a kitten would give him trouble, and Dean just wanted to get there and help.

He started to go only to be stopped again but gunfire. This time it was a rifle and came from further away but the bullets hit close and Dean dove back down again.

Another shot sounded. Eddie screamed. And everything seemed to slow down.

With both hands clamped over the blood gushing from his chest, Eddie hovered for a moment on the other side of the car. Then his legs gave out.

A moment later Duke dragged Sam into view with a gun against his head and blood trickling from his cheek and forehead.

"Drop it and come out, Dean. This ends now or it really and truly ends now."

"Son of a bitch," Brian Myers said from behind Dean.

Dean dropped the handgun, his plans crashing inside his head, stunned at the failure.

"Cuff him," Duke said.

Dean shoved backward but Brian must have been expecting it. He clunked him in the side of the head with the gun and Dean sank to his knees. Brian grabbed his arms, roughly pulling them back and handcuffing him. His head was pounding from the blow and his eyes were watering but Dean spotted Marco and Ava standing on the stone walkway. Ava held a shotgun propped against her shoulder.

Dean's heart beat ferociously in his chest. Now that he was standing, he could see Eddie's body with blood pulled around him. He expected the Sheriff to declare them too much trouble. He expected a bullet for him and Sam.

Duke pushed Sam against the car and handcuffed him. With a reddened face and narrowed eyes, he ordered him Sam to his knees.

"That was stupid, really stupid," Duke said to Dean.

"What's wrong with my brother? What'd you do to him?"

Duke didn't answer. Brian picked up the gun Dean had stashed so carefully, but, ultimately for no reason. The deputy shoved the weapon into the back of his waistband.

He touched the back of his head then looked at the blood on his palm. He gave Dean a disappointed glare.

"Don't give me that stink eye, what'd you expect?" Dean said.

"Thought we were getting to trust each other," Brian said.

"I'm a prisoner, dumbass."

Brian's eyes dropped and Dean guessed that he hurt his feelings.

"All right, pipe down," Duke said. "Brian, get Dean in the car."

"Tell me what's wrong with Sam," Dean said.

"Say 'good bye'," Duke said. "Can't imagine we're going to do this again."

Regret and fury washed over Dean. How dare they separate him from his brother?

"What about Kristen?" Marco called out from his place beneath the willow tree. He was holding Ava's shotgun while she stared at her dead husband.

Duke closed his eyes for just a moment but it was enough for Dean to know that Marco had said too much.

"Who's Kristen?" Dean said.

"A girl," Sam said. "In a cage. In the basement. She's their leverage on me."

"You sick son of a bitch," Dean said to Duke. "You know about this?" He twisted to look at Brian. "You too?"

"Your brother wasn't just going to stand around waiting to get rescued, was he?" Duke said.

Any remnant of liking he may have had for either of them disappeared. At least now he understood why Sam hadn't escaped from Eddie and Ava on his own.

Dean's body tensed, his muscles preparing to attack even before his brain caught up. He started to spin around when pain crashed through his skull.


	5. Chapter 5

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 5

Ava screamed in anger as she knelt beside the body of her husband. Marco stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Sam watched Dean, looking for any sign of movement, grateful when he could see him breathing.

"Marco, get Ava out of here. We'll take care of Eddie," Duke said.

Marco pulled her from the side of her husband. She looked back and forth between Eddie's body and Sam as if she didn't know what to do. Then she settled. Pushing back her shoulders, she glared in Sam's direction with narrowed eyes.

As her brother propelled her towards his car, she tugged away from him and lunged at Sam. Marco caught her. He pulled her back and pushed her firmly into the front seat.

"You killed her husband," the mayor said as if he needed to explain.

"She killed her husband," Sam said.

"Shut up," Duke said.

Marco walked around the car and slid in. Dust shot into the air as he abruptly backed up, turned the vehicle and sped down the driveway.

Dean pushed himself up from where he still lay. He moved slowly. A spot of blood darkened the back of his shirt. He managed to reach his knees before Duke and Brian surrounded him. Roughly lifting him they carried Dean to the police car and roughly dumped him in the back. Sam yelled his outrage but no one seemed to care.

The door closed cutting off his view and despair swept over him. Dean had created an opportunity to escape and Sam failed them both. He had been too weak to push through the drugs and he doubted they'd get another chance to go together.

Next Duke and Brian came for him. They marched him to Eddie's car…Ava's car… and shoved him into the backseat. After engaging the child safety locks, they shut all the doors leaving him inside.

Sam wished he could see Dean inside the cruiser but the tint was too dark.

While he watched, Duke lifted Eddie's feet and Brian lifted his shoulders. Awkwardly carrying and dragging the body, they carted Eddie around the side of the house. They were only gone for a couple of minutes. Sam spent the time trying to manipulate the lock on the handcuffs, hoping to pop the lock. He failed at that too and cursed inwardly.

Opening the driver's side door, Duke spoke to the deputy.

"You take Dean back to the hotel. I'll take care of Sam."

"Dean's spitting mad, but I think he needs his head looked at," Brian said.

Duke shook his head. "Get him some aspirin. We're not dragging a doctor into this mess."

"What are you going to do about Ava? She'll want blood for Eddie."

"She understands the big picture. Marco's going to have to move in with her, keep an eye, but she still wants the money and the perks. Not sure she was all that fond of Eddie anyway."

Brian scratched his head. "I can't believe Eddie's really dead."

"Yeah," Duke said. He seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment before he shook himself back to business.

"Can you handle Dean?" He said.

"Yeah, no problem. See you back at the station."

The two of them split up. Duke climbed into the front of Eddie's car and put the key in the ignition. Sam imagined him patting down the body in search of them.

Sam glanced out the window, watching as Brian backed out then straightened and drove away with Dean still in the backseat. He closed his eyes, unable to face that they were separated again.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Dean's vision cleared but his head continued pounding making his stomach turn sickly. He set his goals for reaching the hotel without vomiting and then going to sleep for twenty-four hours. Once the concussion eased he would find another way to get to Sam. He refused to let disappointment and anger drag him down. He intended to use it to find the right plan to free them both.

Brian stayed silent throughout the drive. When he pulled into the emergency vehicles parking space, he said nothing when he stepped out of the car. He stalked around to Dean's side, opened the door and motioned him out.

"Cuffs," Dean said.

"When we get inside. Not risking any more mischief from you today."

"How's your head?"

"You really are an asshole," Brian said.

Dean smiled to himself. He looked around the deputy towards the street wondering why no one in town thought it was odd to have him moved to and from the hotel on a daily basis. His heart skipped when he saw a familiar face getting out of an old pick up. The grizzled beard and the baseball cap sent a jolt of euphoria through him.

Bobby Singer. Finally, real hope.

Needing to get the old hunter's attention, Dean shoved into Brian and sent the deputy skittering back a couple of steps. The motion drove black spots in front of his eyes but it was worth it when Bobby turned in their direction.

"What the hell, Dean?" Brian said, anger tinging his words.

"One last try."

"You're an idiot. Get walking. The sooner I get rid of you today, the better for everybody."

Dean physically stopped himself from looking for Bobby again. He hoped his friend would know enough to stay back and wait. If he rushed in, they might overpower Brian, or they might end up worse off with Sam in more danger.

Thinking about Sam sent a pang through Dean's middle. Eddie Brennan's death could only mean trouble for him.

He cooperated with Brian as they walked to his room, careful not to cause any problems. His head thumped unpleasantly but with Bobby in town, he discarded his plan to sleep for a day. A couple Tylenol and maybe an ice pack would fix him up and then he and Bobby would figure out how to find Sam.

Brian unlocked the room door but didn't go in. He promised to have some pain killers delivered and left strict orders to call someone if Dean's head injury worsened.

"It's nice of you to care," Dean said, not hiding his flippant tone.

"We need you to fight monsters," Brian said.

Closing the door quickly, Brian didn't wait for a response. Dean rolled his eyes then regretted it when his skull exploded in pain. He sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for Bobby. His heart thumped with the pounding of the concussion but it was mostly excitement.

Dean rummaged through his duffel in search of an ice pack. It was the old fashioned type with a screw on lid and a cloth liner on the outside. Taking it to the small kitchen, he took some ice out of the freezer, dropped them into the pack then added some water. He stretched out on the small cushioned couch, leaned his head back and settled with the cold pressing against his skull.

Worrying that Brian might return with the pain killers at the same that Bobby showed up, Dean wondered if he would kill the deputy. He didn't want to. He liked Brian well enough and knew he wasn't evil. But, he needed to get to Sam and the other prisoner, Kristen, and that outweighed any other concerns.

A while later a knock on the door startled him. Dean had drifted to sleep without realizing it. He jumped up then cursed when dizziness and pain nearly toppled him. Unsteadily lurching to the door, he looked through the peephole to see Brian standing on the other side.

"How's your head?" the deputy asked when he opened up.

"It hurts."

Brian handed him a small bottle of Tylenol.

"Do you need a doctor?" He sounded more concerned than Dean probably deserved after the day's events.

"No. I'll take a few of these and go to sleep."

Brian nodded and turned to walk away.

Dean said, "You and Duke have been telling me that you're taking care of Sam. He didn't look like it."

"He's breathing…walking…able to kill somebody…we're keeping our end."

The deputy strode back towards the parking lot. A streak of panic shot through Dean again when he thought of Sam being at the mercy of Eddie Brennan's family.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Sam remembered nothing of the drive from one farmhouse to the next. The Sheriff clocked him with the butt end of his service weapon as soon as Brian Meyers drove away with Dean.

In spite of a punishing headache, Sam forced himself to open his eyes only to find that he was back in the guest room bed, bound by both wrists to the headboard. They used some leather binding thing that reminded Sam of porn; leather cover over padded interior. He hoped Ava and Eddie never used them for play.

His mind was clearer than it had been and he guessed they hadn't drugged him that day. They probably didn't want him too muddled for the meeting with Dean. Between the break since last night and the adrenaline burn from trying to escape, he felt focused for the first time in a long time which was amazing considering he probably had a concussion.

Eddie, bloody and dead, popped into his brain. He tensed up and his head pounded harder. His captors blamed him for Eddie's death despite the fact that Ava shot him. Whether she panicked, or shifted, or made a decision to kill Eddie, Sam was being held responsible and that worried him.

Would they do something to Kristen Navarro to punish him? Would they do something to Dean?

Before his brain followed that logic all the way, the bedroom door opened to reveal Duke Davis and Marco Rivera. The light from the hall illuminated them. They looked like dark silhouettes, almost like shadows but with more dimension. Sam held his breath, twisting a bit to get a better view of them. His mouth turned to dust and he squeezed his hands closed. He was helpless and they all knew it. The two men stood silently for a long moment before Duke finally crossed the threshold with the mayor close behind. Separating, they moved to each side of the bed. Unable to watch them both, Sam concentrated on the Sheriff.

"You caused a mess of trouble," Duke said.

"He that is taken, and put into chains, is not conquered," Sam said, surprised that the quote came so easily.

"Yeah, I know you're a college boy. No need to toss garbage out like it means something."

"Thomas Hobbes," Sam said, naming the English philosopher who he paraphrased.

"Okay, but, here's the thing, Sam, you are conquered. We are back to status quo. Dean can't find you and can't save you. You're sitting here like a prize and you're not going anywhere. Dean will hunt, you will stay, and the only thing you made happen was the murder of a good man."

"Good man? Seriously? And for the record, Ava shot him."

"Never would have happened without you."

"My sister's husband," Marco said. "She's a widow."

"She's had her hand down my pants since I got here. Probably not that broken up," Sam said.

Marco punched him in the cheek, harder than Sam would have expected. The blow added to the headache and Sam forced blackness away.

Red faced and breathless, the mayor said, "Don't you ever insult my sister."

"Before you get any other bright ideas," Duke said, "Kristen is still in the cellar. I had to appease Ava so that little girl has a black eye now and no books to read."

"Bastard," Sam said.

"You did that, not me. I tried to give you a gift and you spit on it."

Duke motioned to the mayor to move towards the door then he followed him. When they reached the threshold, Duke turned around. Any definition to his face was obscured by the backlight and Sam shivered inwardly.

"No more chores, no more outside. This is your prison now. Now and then, we'll come and get you so you don't soil the bed. Or maybe we won't bother and you can stew in your filth. Playtime is over, Sam."

The sheriff closed the door as he left, leaving the room in darkness. Sam stared towards the ceiling taking long breaths to stay calm. He reminded himself that the bed was more comfortable than the kitchen floor. He had hated doing chores for Eddie and Ava, hated doing anything that benefitted them. He'd survive inactivity for a while.

After a few moments, he decided laying in a warm, comfortable room, even bound by the wrists, would be a nice change. At least until he figured out how to break free. He figured Duke was just posturing about not letting him use the bathroom so they'd have to release him at least a couple of times a day. He'd make an opening and take it.

Despite the vicious headache, the lethargy had left him. He was finally ready to stop making excuses and start making a new plan to escape.

He intended to get free, get to the basement to retrieve Kristen then head for the nearest road. If he needed to damage humans in the process then he was ready. If he needed to kill them then he would. Thinking about Dean with the year ticking down on his deal lent urgency to his resolve. He couldn't stay locked up any longer.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Dean startled awake, groaning and grabbing his head. For a moment he wasn't sure what happened, then light tapping on the door filtered into his brain. Swallowing back the vomit that wanted to erupt, he stumbled to the door and looked through the peephole. Relief swept through him when he saw the familiar baseball cap and scraggly beard on the other side.

He opened the door quickly, desperate to keep Bobby's arrival secret. Wanting to wrap his arms around his friend, he held up one finger instead before he darted into the bathroom.

Everything he'd consumed in the last three years thundered from his body as if it had been waiting for that moment. He choked and coughed through the vile experience until finally his stomach started heaving but nothing else came out. Falling back on his butt, he wiped his mouth then leaned his head into his hands and closed his eyes. It felt like his skull would burst from the pounding pressure.

The toilet flushed and he dared to peer out from his fingers. Bobby crouched down beside him and nudged a bottle of water into his hands.

"How'd you get concussed?" Bobby said.

"Gun butt, I think." Dean sipped some of the water.

"You want to get up?"

"Yeah."

Dean held out his arm. Bobby's strong hands wrapped around it then pulled him from the floor. Unsteadily leaning on his friend, the two of them tottered into the main room. Bobby eased him on to the couch.

Taking some time to unscramble his brain, Dean drank and waited for a clear thought. He hated the bitter aftertaste of vomiting but the water slid easily down his throat. He turned a blurry gaze on to Bobby and managed a small smile.

"You're a sight," Dean said.

"Good to see you too, son," Bobby said. "Where's Sam?"

"We're kidnapped. Both of us."

Bobby's lips thinned and his shoulders tensed.

Dean spent the next several minutes explaining the situation then concluded with the failed escape attempt.

"There's no way to tell where they're keeping your brother?" Bobby said.

"I tried a locating spell but it literally burned through the entire map. I don't know why it didn't work."

"It's this place. I've heard that compasses get wonky too. Whatever evil spit out of the Devil's Gate, it poisoned the ground, the air, everything."

"You know about this town?"

"Just from hunters who have been here."

"Well, we have to convince someone to tell us where Sam is, but the only ones who know are the Sheriff, his deputies and the mayor. Mayor's probably easiest to turn but we'd have to get him alone."

"Why not just bail out of here and go find him? Someone will know something."

"If the Sheriff or one of his people don't contact Ava then she's supposed to kill him."

"Maybe that'd force Sheriff Davis to bring him out. He'll still need a hunter and Sam would be next in line. It'd be smarter than murder."

"Without both of us, they don't have any leverage."

"The girl in the basement?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I don't know. They might not think she's enough. Plus if I disappear then it'd make them doubt the whole plan. I think they'd kill him."

"All right then, how about you keep doing the hunting and I'll follow the Sheriff until he leads me to Sam. You said he checks in on him."

"Yeah, but, he probably won't go there for a couple days."

"And you're worried about repercussions because of Eddie's death. I get that, believe me. I want to get your brother as soon as we can but, unless you know of a way to get them to talk to us, or produce him, following the Sheriff seems like the best way to go."

Dean slumped further into the couch, keeping his eyes closed and fists clenched. The pain maddened him because he needed to be focused.

"Listen, Dean, you're not doing yourself any good. Or Sam, either. Go on and get some rest. Twelve good hours to let the bruise on your brain start to heal."

"Six. Six hours, Bobby. Then wake me."

"How often do they check on you? Are they coming back tonight?"

"No. Don't think so. I mean if a monster shows up and they need me, they'll come, but they know I'm beat up."

"Do they knock or have a key?"

"What's with the twenty questions? I'm barely tracking here."

"I don't want to leave you alone, Dean, but I don't want to get caught here."

"Oh. Yeah. Um, they knock. It's best if you stay here anyway. If you keep coming and going, someone will see you."

"All right then. Come on, let's get you into bed."

Bobby held out his hand. Dean squinted, wincing as he did and took it, letting Bobby pull him back to his feet. He tottered slowly into the bedroom. Not bothering to undress, Dean slid under the unmade covers and swallowed back a wave of nausea when his skull objected to the change in position.

"Hey, I started some research on the laptop out there," Dean said. "They'll let us go if we can ward the town against monsters. "

"This is unholy ground, Dean. We just have to reverse that, turn it back to normal so the monsters aren't drawn here."

"How do you know about this?"

"When you and Sam didn't show up at my place, I started checking around. Talked to some people, did a little research. Seems like since we let the Devil's Gate get open, this place has been a divining rod for everything supernatural."

"Yeah. That's why the locals need a fulltime hunter. Do you know to fix it?"

Bobby cocked his head and shrugged. "I got the starting blocks. Should be able to figure it out with a little time. You get some sleep and I'll work on it, all right?"

"I kept telling them I just needed to call you. Assholes."

Dean felt the tension start melting and consciousness leaving with it.

"I'm glad to see you," he said.

Drifting off took longer than it should have but the Tylenol had barely touched the headache so he wasn't surprised. When sleep finally came, he washed away with it knowing that Bobby was there, and soon he and Sam would be free.


	6. Chapter 6

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 6

After two days of laying in wet, urine soaked bedding, Sam battled rage more than anything else. The mayor nor Ava answered when he called out to them. He hadn't seen a person since Duke deserted him. The smell churned his stomach. With a throat burning from thirst and an aching, empty belly, he shivered against the chill coming from the window facing his bed.

A curtain covered the view but he could hear the skitter of squirrels or chipmunks, and sometimes he heard birds calling. He imagined he could hear the wind too but that might have been his imagination. Bored, restless and uncomfortable he yanked against the restraints on his wrists almost continually. Sooner or later the buckle or the bed frame had to break.

He couldn't remember ever being this miserable. Pain nagged at him but not as much as the filth and the want and boredom. After doing math in his head for hours he tried creating anagrams but that didn't work as well. His brain gave him memories of better times or, sometimes when he slept, horrific nightmares. There didn't seem to be any in between.

He had started believing that they intended to leave him there to die, and he hated that it might happen. Fury at the injustice of it warred with despair. He was lonely and sad one moment and ready to murder anyone the next.

Frustrated, he jerked harder on the restraints. The bed rattled and nothing else. No hint of progress to give him hope. But, moving sent a wave of odor that made him recoil and curse.

His back hurt, his butt felt shredded and his shoulders were like heavy pieces of meat dragging against his body. He guessed he was probably getting bedsores from lying in one position, especially a wet, unsanitary one.

"Hey," he yelled. "Ava! Rivera! Come on. Anybody. " More quietly he said, "I'm going to die here."

Fury soared through him. How dare they leave him like this, laying in urine, starving…dying. Wildly yanking on his bound wrists, he flung himself against the bed over and over, desperate to break it. If he could smash the frame, he'd be free. Cursing loudly, he drew his legs up as close to his chest as possible then slammed them back down. The wretched bed creaked but didn't collapse. He repeated the action and still nothing rewarded him. He kept it up, changing angles, lifting his legs higher then lower, twisting and pulling but it just remained steadfastly permanent, refusing to give him hope.

Exhausted and panting, Sam screamed out in anguish. He screamed until his voice grew hoarse and scratchy, until his energy waned. Then silently, nothing but his breath to remember the tantrum, he closed his eyes. He felt his body slowing, knew he couldn't last forever. He ignored the hunger squeezing his stomach, pushed away thoughts of his aching, parched throat and let his mind drift.

Sleep might give him a little more time. Letting his body rest, closing down his brain would conserve his failing functions.

Deliberately shoving his frustration and anger into a solitary box, he started to slip into the only peace left, hoping that the damp chill and the horrific odor didn't interfere.

"Sam," the soft voice startled him and he flinched. He looked into the face of Ava Brennan who stood beside his bed with a broad smile.

"Oh, Sa-am," she singsonged. "Wake up or die."

Her voice sounded odd and her face seemed wrong. He blamed his exhaustion but something wasn't right about her.

"I'm awake." He pushed the words across his torn throat.

"I have to keep you alive because that moron sheriff ordered me to. He still thinks I answer to him. Boy, is he going to get a surprise."

"Ava, what are you…"

"For now though, for now you get to live, Sammy. But, that may not be true tomorrow."

Not willing examine her tone or her words too closely, Sam watched her while she ran light fingers over the leather restraint at his wrist. She reached into the pocket of her loose sweater and withdrew a syringe. Sam shifted away from her, pulling at both arms, fear pulsing through his abdomen.

"What is that?"

"A little fun. You remember the Devil's Breath, don't you? It made you all kinds of agreeable."

"Don't," Sam said.

She giggled. The sound was shrill and strange.

She sat on his arm, wiggling her jeans covered butt until she was comfortable while she immobilized him. Sam looked from the needle to Ava's face. The tip of her tongue rested between her lips. Her eyes were wide and bright.

"Don't," he said again but knew his objection fueled her.

She aimed the needle like a nurse, capturing his vein easily before depressing the plunger. Heat filled his skin and she wiggled against his hand again before standing up.

Drowsiness grabbed him first. His limbs collapsed heavily by his sides. Working at staying conscious, he focused on Ava as she moved around the bed. It confused him when she released the cuffs on his ankles. Dizzy but feeling vaguely relaxed he didn't move his arms when she unwrapped them.

She grabbed his hand roughly and yanked him, sending him crashing to the floor. He yelled out uselessly as he landed, his muscles had failed to follow orders and he hit the ground hard, just barely managing to keep from face planting.

"So whiny," she said. "Get off the floor and get in the shower. You stink worse than an outhouse in summer. There's a change of clothes in there."

She sauntered out of the room, leaving the door open.

Sam needed a few minutes to get his arms to work. The pain of waking muscles floated through his brain but the feeling was muted. He needed to get in the shower. When he could, he slowly pushed himself on to his knees then rose unsteadily. Weakness threatened him so he moved slowly, forcing his legs to push him forward as he managed to get through the doorway.

Ava walked from around the corner and stood at the end of the hall. Holding a hand gun, she spread her feet apart in a shooter's stance. Sam lurched backward, adrenaline surging through his veins when he looked into her face. Dense black eyes stared back at him.

"Demon," he said.

A moment later the brown shade returned and she smiled with her lips pressed together as she cocked her head.

"That's not nice," she said. "Shower is in the other direction."

"You're a demon," he said.

"I've been called worse. Get going before I tie you back to that piss soaked mattress."

Sam stared at her, his brain slogging through what he thought he had seen and what he was seeing now. Exhaustion fogged his thinking and now he questioned himself. Had he seen black eyes or was it a trick of lighting combined with his weakened condition?

He didn't know.

Shuffling slowly, he went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Turning the water on, he reveled in the feel of heat against his hands. With trembling limbs he peeled off his ruined clothes, nearly gagging at the stench then stood naked in the middle of the room. Not daring to look in the mirror, Sam stepped under the warm spray, unable to remember when anything felt that good.

He opened his mouth and drank, not caring that it was hot. When he started to feel sick he stopped drinking. He reached for the soap to thoroughly wash. The odor and grime sluiced off his body and down the drain, easing away some of the memory as well.

Intent on the relief of a simple shower, Sam cursed when the shower curtain opened. He recoiled towards the back wall, trying to escape the sudden cold and whoever dared barge into his privacy. Wiping the water from his eyes he glared at Ava who stood outside the porcelain enclosure.

She was naked, her breasts high and well formed, the rest of her trim. She smiled as she spread her arms out, brazenly posing for him.

"Do you need someone to wash your back?" She said, softly.

"Aren't you in mourning?" Sam said but his words sounded thick and weak.

"Hardly. I'm coming in."

"No, you're not." Or maybe she was, maybe he should let her in. She tilted her head from one side to the other, blatantly running her eyes over him. The brazenness of it pushed fury over the confusion.

"Get out," he said.

"Come on, Sam, you've been here for weeks. You must be feeling frisky by now. A little brush, that's all I'm saying."

He wanted to say something strong, tell her to get out or be clever and tell her that he doesn't screw kidnappers but his brain betrayed him. "Get out," he said, pushing through the fog.

"This body is pretty, isn't it? What are you, a prude?"

A new anger up as Sam thought about all the times over the last few weeks that she'd made his skin crawl just by touching him. Having her standing there, stealing away his rare moment of peace enraged him.

He grabbed her shoulders with both hands and shoved her. She stumbled backward a couple of steps then recovered. Pushing her felt wrong but he didn't know why. It wasn't that she was a woman or that they were both naked. It just felt like maybe he should he be doing what she wanted instead.

Ava darted forward, her face ugly and twisted. She hovered next to the edge, her mouth was a thin slit and her eyes were narrowed and hard. She slammed both hands into his chest driving him backward. He hit the wall violently, grunting at the impact and stunned by her strength.

"Bastard," she seethed. "Another dose and you'll give me anything I want."

Marco Rivera's voice sounded. It was muffled as it carried through the door.

"Where are you?" The mayor said.

"This isn't over," she said to Sam.

She ripped the shower curtain back into place, separating them. Sam leaned against the cool, tiled wall and worked at catching his breath. He noticed the water getting cold, reached out and turned off the faucet. He stayed still and silent until he heard the bathroom door open and close.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Bobby Singer said nothing when Dean punched the hotel door but Dean could feel his disapproval. He didn't care. Three days had passed since the botched escape and the death of Eddie Brennan. Duke Davis visited the hotel every day. He never talked about Sam. He just seemed to be enjoying the lull in monster visits. He talked about the weather and the unusual break from emergencies but not much else.

Bobby spent the Sheriff's visits in the back bedroom waiting for him to leave so he could climb out the bedroom window and follow him, always hoping that Duke was heading to check on Sam. But, so far, it hadn't happened.

That was the reason for Dean's fit of temper. He hated the not knowing and the waiting. After the first day, the headache and nausea from his concussion faded, and no new monsters reared up. It left him stuck in the hotel, bored and worried, with his anger growing.

"Three days, Bobby…and nothing. Anything could be happening to that kid and we're just sitting on our thumbs."

"Well, what do you want to do? You can't force the Sheriff to go there."

"You didn't see Sam at the meeting. He was a mess, and now...three more days...we can't sit around anymore."

"I'm still waiting for an idea. 'Cuz right now, seems like following the Sheriff is our best bet."

"Let's jump Duke when he comes to visit. You have guns so let's just stick a .45 in his back. I'll bet he takes us to Sam."

"Maybe," Bobby said. "Or maybe he refuses and he doesn't send the signal to Sam's kidnappers. Or maybe he takes us to the wrong place and just lets time run out."

"He won't if he wants to live."

"It's risky. He could be damn spiteful… or maybe just not believe we'd really kill him. By the time we call his bluff, Sam could be dead."

Bobby sat down on the couch and picked up a pad of hotel stationary.

"Then we have to force Duke to go there so you can follow him. I'll demand proof of life," Dean said.

Bobby shook his head. "Technology is not on your side. They can use a cell phone to send pictures."

"Something with today's newspaper," Dean's voice trailed off. He snatched the pad of paper from Bobby's hand. "I got a better idea."

Dean ripped off a piece of stationary. He wrote the day and date on it.

"A picture with this," he said. "Duke will have to go to Sam. There won't be any other way to get the picture."

Bobby smiled. "Now, you're thinking, boy."

Dean paced a few steps. Now, that they had a plan, he needed to Duke to arrive. There was no guarantee. The Sheriff might get busy on regular police work. Or worse, a monster might arrive which would sidetrack everything. Dean scratched his head, trying not to think of all the things that might go wrong. They had a decent plan. All they needed was a break to implement it.

Bobby straightened his hat and said, "I'm going to sneak out the back and find a place to watch for the Sheriff. I don't want to lose my chance."

"Don't get caught." Dean smiled when he said it but he was only half kidding.

Bobby scowled. "You just do your part," he said.

Dean fondly watched him go into the back room. Whatever else was happening, it was good to have him there.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

When Sam emerged from the bathroom, he wore his own clothes. Blue jeans, a gray t-shirt, clean socks and underwear. His hair was still damp and he shivered as he left the warm, foggy room. The cold helped focus him as he looked around for Ava and Marco.

More disoriented than before he used the wall to keep steady. He needed to rally if he was going to escape.

As he came around the corner to enter the living room, Sam bumped into the mayor who was coming from the other direction.

"Wrong way," Marco said. "Get back down the hall."

"I don't…" He was going to say that he didn't know what Marco wanted him to do. But, why did he care what either sibling wanted him to do?

Marco Rivera reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a syringe.

"No," Sam said and shoved forward but Marco pushed back, driving his hand against Sam's chest and pinning him. Black swirls clouded his eyes and mind. Sam grunted when the needle jammed into his chest. All he could hear was his own heartbeat. All he could feel was burning at the puncture.

Dizzy and disconnected from his brain, Sam tried to focus but everything around him looked fuzzy. His arms hung loose at his sides. He didn't know what to do next. Marco pushed him to move and Sam stumbled forward.

"What are you doing?" Ava said from someplace behind them. She sounded far away.

"I shot him up with that syringe from the kitchen," Marco said.

"I already did that. I bet he'll do anything now."

"I'll lock him back in the bedroom."

"No. Not in there," she said. "Put him in my room."

"Ava, Eddie's not even cold yet."

Something flared through Sam but he couldn't explain it. He knew he wanted to avoid Ava's room. He didn't want to be tied down again but it was more than that. He wanted to fight but his body wouldn't obey. His brain told him to listen for direction but something pushed against it.

"Wait," Sam said, stopping like a mule at the edge of a cliff. "Just wait." He didn't know what he was trying to accomplish, to buy time or put off the inevitable.

"What?" Ava said.

"What do you want?" Sam said.

She took a step closer and leaned towards him. A slow smile split her lips. Feeling the heat of her jolted through Sam as if she'd struck him.

He rushed Marco, feeling like a drunken ragdoll. He threw all his weight into it. Marco slammed into Ava. They both tumbled and Sam took his chance. Fueled by adrenaline and desperation he ran full out for the back door.

"Go to the river," Ava yelled out. "Go to the river."

He heard the pelt of her steps behind him. "You need water, Sam. Get to the river."

Sam broke into the early evening woods behind the house. He drove deep into the trees hoping to keep ahead of them long enough to find a place to hide. Cold hit him hard as soon as he burst through the door. With no shoes and no jacket, the frigid air could kill him just as easily as being caught.

He needed to find the river.


	7. Chapter 7

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

Part 7

Dean liked their plan and intended to follow through on it. While the town might be quiet at the moment, he knew it wouldn't stay that way. Duke would know the same thing and if he still wanted Dean's help, he'd have to produce something to prove Sam was still alive. Turning the blackmail scenario around on his captor made Dean feel better too. He was tired of being a prisoner and tired for being forced to hunt.

Shortly after Bobby sneaked out the back, a knock on the front door of the hotel room put the plan in motion. Dean opened up to let Duke stride in with his usual confidence.

"What do you know about demons?" Duke said without a greeting.

"They're from hell. Mostly they come topside to buy souls. Sometimes they're on a mission. Why?" Dean said.

"Corny Mullins, the clerk at the tool store says one of his customers threatened him. The guy, a stranger, was smoking inside the store and rummaging around, making a mess. Corny asked him to stop. He said the guy's eyes turned jet black and he threatened to tear Corny's head off."

Dean swallowed his worry. Demons were deadly and hard to kill. His own soul would belong to them soon, and it scared him to hear that one might be in town.

"Okay, first...Corny? Really?" Dean said. "And second, black eyes are a giveaway. Did 'Ole Corny smell sulfur before or after? That's something else to look for."

"Yeah. He said something about that. Thought maybe the guy was using matches to light up his cigarette."

"Demons are trouble," Dean said. "We know one and she has a knife that'll kill them but…if she hasn't shown up by now, I don't think she will. It's pretty much holy water and exorcism. We can make a trap that'll keep them prisoner but it's not permanent."

"You said cutting something's head off is a sure thing."

Dean shook his head. "Almost a sure thing. Doesn't work with demons. They'll just smoke out and find someone else to possess."

"That Latin chant you were teaching Myers, is that the exorcism?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. But, you have to trap them first. They're not going to sit still while you say the words."

"All righty then. Time to find us some demons, make that trap and get rid of them."

"Devil's Trap first, then lure them in. Exorcism. If you do it out of order, you're going to get killed. Finding them isn't that easy though. If you think someone's a demon, you can say 'Christo' and it might force their eyes to turn black. You're calling them out when you do that. You can sneak holy water into something and trick them into drinking it. That'll slow them down and give you an edge. Sprinkling them with holy water will get their attention but you'll have a fight on your hands."

"Grab your stuff," Duke said.

"Not so fast. It's been three days since you've said anything about Sam."

"He's fine."

The dismissive tone annoyed Dean. He planted his feet and folded his arms.

Duke glared at him. "What? I've talked to Ava. She's pissed about Eddie but your brother is alive and well."

Dean hoped the Sheriff couldn't hear his beating heart. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels with a shrug.

"I want a picture," Dean said. "Prove it to me."

Letting out a long suffering sigh, the Sheriff said, "Let me text her. She can send it."

Shaking his head, Dean said, "No." He grabbed the piece of stationary off the table and slammed it against Duke's chest. "I want a picture of Sam holding this."

"Maybe I should just call Ava and tell her to give your brother a reminder of what happens when you disobey."

"Don't threaten me. Picture, or no hunting. You want to go after demons without me, go ahead. You'll end up with your head on a pike but… no big deal to me."

"People could die while you're dicking around with this."

"Then you should get going."

"Jackass," Duke said.

After taking another moment, Duke agreed. He said he'd be back in an hour before slamming out of the hotel room.

Dean only hesitated for a moment. He still liked the plan he and Bobby concocted but he needed to make one change. He ran to the back bedroom. The window looked out on to the hotel patio. Bobby had moved one of the fake, standing trees about four feet to cover the view. If it had been within the first few days of capture, Dean was sure someone would have noticed but more than a week had passed, and that gave him the advantage of complacency.

He grabbed an old knit cap out of his bag. He ignored his heavy field jacket and put on a navy sweatshirt instead. He slipped the cap on, pulling it over his ears then climbed out the window. Carefully moving around the tree, he hunched slightly to cover his height then walked easily towards the street. If anyone was actually watching him, they would have caught Bobby by now so he wasn't worried about that. If any of the town's people noticed him coming out the window, they'd report it to Duke but, he was willing to risk it.

Coming around to the side street where Bobby had parked, he saw the older man sitting behind the wheel of his truck. Halfway down the street, Dean spotted Duke's cruiser. Walking confidently but keeping his shoulders down, Dean opened the passenger side door of the truck.

Bobby startled then cursed.

"What are you doing?" Bobby said.

"We're going to find Sam."

Dean scooted lower in the seat and pulled the visor down too. Bobby handed him a pair of cheap, plastic sunglasses.

"It's the middle of winter," Dean said.

"Still sunny out. Just put them on."

"All right, all right. Hey, does this thing have heat?"

"Yeah, here." Bobby started the engine.

When Duke pulled away from the curb, Bobby waited half a block then pulled out too.

"Don't let him see you," Dean said.

"I know how to tail someone. Just sit there."

"I'm not a good passenger."

Bobby nodded. Neither of them spoke again for a long time while they carefully trailed the Sheriff.

As promised, Bobby showed real skill in following the cruiser. It took patience and instincts to know when to speed up or slow down. Duke didn't seem to notice the old Chevy as he drove.

Dean stayed hunched low in the seat, deliberately not looking in the direction of the old farm road where he had last seen Sam. Duke continued driving on the narrow highway and didn't slow down for another three miles. His blinker started flashing and he slid into the turning lane. Bobby kept going straight. Dean fought the urge to object. He knew that following Duke down that road would draw instant attention. But, he hated it because they might lose sight of the police unit and not find it again.

After traveling several miles in the wrong direction, Bobby changed lanes and did a U-turn. He drove back to the narrow road and slowly turned on to it. If they met up with the cruiser, they'd change tactics. If Dean needed to beat Duke until he revealed Sam's location, he'd do it.

"All clear so far," Bobby said.

Only a short way down the road, Dean spotted Duke's car parked at the end of a paved driveway. Further back from the road, he could see a single level house. It was old but it looked like the front porch had been freshly painted. The house sat nestled in a crop of trees with woods pushed up to the back of it.

Bobby drove a mile up the road and pulled off into a field. He parked behind some trees but anyone looking would find it. Dean wasn't worried about that. If they failed now, Bobby's truck being found would be the least of their problems.

"Oh, hey," Dean said as they started to get out. "Duke said there might be demons in town. Be on the lookout."

"Well, thanks so much getting around to telling me."

Dean shrugged.

The ground crunched under his boots when Dean stepped out. Bobby joined him and they decided to walk through the tree cover to get back to the house.

"It is really cold out here," Dean said.

"Yep," Bobby said. "Reminds me of home."

Bobby lived in South Dakota so the Wyoming chill probably didn't bother him much. Dean never learned to appreciate bitter cold but Bobby always said he liked it.

"I think the temperature dropped since we left town," Dean said.

"Probably a winter storm coming. There are clouds away off. It's not too dry so we might see some snow before morning."

Walking across brittle leaves and twigs they stayed close to the trees as they ventured towards the old house. Dean doubted anyone was looking for him, doubted they had realized he escaped but there were no guarantees. Brian Myers might have dropped in for a visit and found the empty room. If he did then Duke would likely kill Sam or give the order for it.

When they saw the house they slowed down, creeping in closer. Dean wanted to surprise them. He expected that subduing Ava and the mayor would be simple enough. If they waited for Duke to get the photo and leave, then he and Bobby should be able to get to Sam and the coed without killing anyone.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

Sam pushed his way into a hunter's cabin. Stumbling over the threshold, he found a small, wood enclosure. Whoever built it didn't bother with a floor so he lurched over cold, hard ground to a chair in the corner. A cot sat on the other side of the seven foot square. Anchored between the two pieces of furniture was an iron wood stove with a pipe extended through the ceiling.

The cot was bare, just a mattress with no sheets or blankets. Sam opened the door of the stove and found nothing but a clean interior. He sighed as he realized that the hunter who built it had either shut it down, or had yet to open it up for the season. On the floor near the door was a flip top container that resembled an old fashioned bread box. Sam lifted the lid hoping to find canned goods or cereal but the box contained a steak knife, two forks and a spoon; no food.

"Thanks for nothing," he said out loud.

Dizzy and exhausted, Sam collapsed into the chair and rubbed his feet. He hoped to keep the circulation going and generate some warmth. He fought for clarity through his loopy, disconnected brain. He still needed to get to the river.

Turning his attention to the immediate survival problem, Sam talked through it.

"You couldn't use the stove anyway. You might as well call Ava and just tell her where to find you."

Still it was nice to think about sitting next to the warm iron, smelling the burning wood and listening to it crackle.

"Okay, you're still shivering. That's a good thing…I think." A fog swept through his brain. He squeezed his hands into fists and pounded once against his thighs. "Focus, damn it. Shivering is good. Now, you have to get moving."

He refused to think about the throbbing muscle aches coursing through him. His ankles had mostly healed from the damage of the chains but his body felt bruised but dwelling on his misery wouldn't save him. Wishing for a sandwich or even a cold can of spam wouldn't accomplish anything either. Sam rubbed his arms and shoulders.

He glimpsed something under the cot. Not daring to hope too soon, he dropped to his knees and looked closer. He laughed out loud as he pulled a pair of old work boots out. They were crusty with mud and laden with frayed laces, but they were the most beautiful thing he'd seen in days.

"You might save my life."

Sam untied them and pulled them open. As he put the first one on, he felt the tightness and knew they were too small. But he pushed them on anyway until his toes crammed into the end, cramping at the tight fit. He loosened the laces but they still crushed his feet painfully.

More fog invaded his struggling brain so he banged his palm against his forehead. It hurt and made him dizzy. He swallowed, holding still until the moment passed.

"Okay, no hitting yourself in the head."

He squinted in the direction of the door, loathing the idea of going back outside. The relative shelter provided some relief, but it was completely indefensible, and an obvious place to look for him.

With the river still beckoning, he trained his attention on getting there.

"Whining won't fix things," he said.

He took a breath and headed back outside. Recoiling from the frigid air, he had to force himself to reset the door and jog away from the cabin.

As he rounded the small building he heard the sound of water. That's where he needed to go.

"Damn it," he said when his brain hazed over again.

The constant shivering made his other aches and pains worse. He was hungry and dizzy and wanted sleep more than anything. Remembering the cot, he wondered if he could take half an hour to close his eyes. A power nap to shake off the lethargy and then he'd be ready to face the task ahead. But, he couldn't do that. Not when the sound of the river called to him.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

They watched Duke's cruiser for a while but it remained parked. Dean's muscles stiffened with each passing moment. He fought the urge to pace.

"All right, we've waited long enough," Dean said. "If you and me can't take one sheriff and two civilians then we're in the wrong line of work."

Bobby sighed. Then he nodded. "All right," he said. "Same plan. I'll head to the front door."

Dean started to walk around the house when he glimpsed something odd. Looking across the side yard, he spotted another cruiser. Dean whistled. When Bobby turned around he pointed towards the car.

Minimally, that meant one more person inside the house.

Bobby nodded then continued to make his way towards the porch.

As Dean approached from the wooded side, he noticed the freshly chopped lumber and the axe. The clearing was small but he could imagine sitting on the cement step during warmer weather. It had probably been peaceful there before opening the Devil's Gate turned Ranch Head into "monster central'.

Bobby's job was to knock on the front door. He needed to distract the people inside so that Dean could enter from the back and surprise them. Dean listened, heard the hard knock from Bobby's hand then twisted the doorknob, glad to find it unlocked.

He mounted the step then walked in through the kitchen. Pulling off the knit cap, Dean scratched his head. He needed a moment to process what he was seeing.

Lying prone in the middle of the kitchen floor was Deputy Brian Myers. Blood had pooled around his skull. Dean set the cap on the table and approached carefully to check for a pulse. He was glad to find one but he wondered what Brian had done to become a victim in this kidnapping.

Dean rose while keeping his attention on the entry into the kitchen. He moved towards the wall and peered around it.

Marco Rivera stood at the front door talking to Bobby. He had positioned himself to block Bobby's view into the living room, and for good reason. Duke Davis sat on the couch with Ava standing over him. She held a gun and wore a smile. His arms were behind him, probably bound.

Marco slammed the door closed in Bobby's face then turned to Ava.

"Now what?"

"We should have torn his spine through his chest," Ava said. "But, we don't need another body to deal with."

Dean froze, terrified that they had killed Sam.

"Have you gone crazy? He's just lost," Marco said.

"He came to the wrong house, didn't he?" Ava said. "That girl downstairs is starting to stink up the place. What if he smelled it?"

The Sheriff's gaze shifted between them. Dean cursed to himself. Kristen, the coed, was dead. But a shiver of relief followed that they hadn't admitted to murdering his brother.

"You didn't have to kill her," Marco said. "No one was supposed to…"

"You're pathetic," Ava said.

"She was innocent," Duke said. He looked at Ava.

"Christo," he said.

Ava's eyes changed to black. She cocked her head and growled low in her throat.

Marco sputtered in shock as he backed away from her.

"She's a demon," Duke said.

"I've been here the whole time," Marco said, sounding like he didn't believe it.

"You missed the signs, I guess...if there are signs...I don't know." Duke shook his head.

Marco looked at his sister. "Ava?"

"Not since the farm house," she said. "I killed her useless husband, and made Sam Winchester my bitch."

Her self-satisfied tone made Dean's stomach clench.

"What about Deputy Myers?" Duke said.

Wait, Dean thought, what about Myers? He spun around to find the deputy standing behind him with coal, black eyes and a smirk turning his lips.

"Winchester," he said. "I can't wait to take you to the pit."

Brian leaped at him, knocking him backward and propelling both of them into the living room. Dean grunted as they hit the floor. The gun was trapped between them and he couldn't free his arms to strike any blows. Powered by demon strength, the deputy managed to roll them over so he was on top of Dean. Dean pushed back, bringing his legs up and around him then turning them again. He worked the flask out. Just as he freed his arm, Brian punched him in the cheek. Pain blossomed up and blurred his sight. Dean curled his arm and dumped holy water down the demon's back. Brian screamed and pulled away as his skin melted. Dean rolled in the other direction.

The sound of two gunshots pushed Dean to his feet. As he straightened he watched Ava shove Duke off her. He guessed the Sheriff must have tried to rush her. She started kicking her way up from the floor and Bobby doused her with holy water. She screamed out while her face burned. Bobby grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door, dropping her on to the front porch while she squirmed and thrashed.

"Get the other one," Bobby said.

Dean gripped the flailing deputy by both wrists and started pulling him towards the door. Bobby hit him with more holy water and his skin sizzled.

"Get him in the circle," Bobby said.

Screaming in fury Ava glared at them with black eyes blazing. Brian landed next to her, his skin still smoking and his face painted with grim understanding.

Panting, his voice shaking, Marco said, "What is this? I don't understand."

Dean had forgotten about him. The Mayor was kneeling next to Duke who lay on his back, one arm outstretched, the other trapped beneath his body. Two bullet holes ruined his chest and his eyes were frozen open as if shocked by it.

"She's a demon. Both of them are," Dean said.

"No, it's Ava…it's my sister," Marco said then he looked down at the dead sheriff. "Tell them, Duke."

"She's not your sister anymore. And Duke isn't saying anything." Dean said.

Dean wondered at the regret he felt over the sheriff's death. He didn't know why he cared. But, he couldn't dwell on it, not when Sam was still missing.

"Where's Sam?" Dean said. Bobby stood beside him wearing a violent glare.

"Dead," Ava said and Dean's chest clenched.

"No, he's not," Marco said. "He got away. The cold might have killed him by now but we didn't. She…she was really angry. Brian…or…him…" He nodded towards the devil's trap. "Said they needed Sam to get to you."

Dean digested that, hating that humans and monsters alike thought they could use Sam against him.

Needing a distraction, he looked at Bobby. "Devil's Trap?"

"There was paint on the porch," Bobby said as he straightened his ball cap. "Soon as I smelled the sulfur, I knew we'd need it."

Dean patted his arm gratefully. "I have to find Sam. Do you have this?"

"Exorcisms are my specialty. Go find your brother."

"No," Ava said, fury etched in every line of her face.

"Yes," Bobby said.

Dean spared a quick glance at Duke before he headed out the back door towards the woods. He could hear Bobby's voice as he started speaking Latin.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…"


	8. Chapter 8

Coercion

Coffeemaniac

Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.

Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.

Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.

Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)

A/N: This is the last chapter. Thank you to all those who stayed. Thank you for the reviews, the favorites and the follows. Many of you were kind, and extremely generous with your time. I hope to hear if you liked the conclusion or not.

Without readers, a writer is an island.

Part 8

Dean knew Sam would escape towards the woods. He never questioned his decision to go that way. If Sam ran out the front, he would still have headed in the direction of the trees, depending on them for cover. Going any other way was too risky.

The bitter cold made it hard to move fast. Dean missed his knit cap. He felt like his lungs were freezing over with every breath. He hoped Sam had grabbed a jacket before escaping.

He started calling for him as soon as he entered the trees. If Sam heard his voice then he'd know it was safe to stop running. Dean followed the best he could, looking for signs of his brother's path. Some broken branches and crushed leaves provided a few clues but Dean wasn't a back woods tracker. He used common sense and experience to search, but he wasn't confident.

If Sam had tried to create some kind of false trail then Dean would have to guess directions.

"Sammy," he yelled out but there was no answering call.

He came across a small hut, probably used by a hunter or some nature hippie. As he drew close to it, he saw the break on the cheap hasp and the door was slightly off its hinges. The trespasser had to be Sam.

Dean walked up slowly, calling out and hoping to get a response. Imagining getting tackled by his over sized brother, he approached the door and stood to one side. If Sam had managed to get a weapon, he might easily start firing through the wood. He reached out with one hand and knocked.

"Sam, it's me," he said, not sure if he should feel stupid about talking to an empty building or smart for being cautious.

No response came from the building. Confident now that Sam would answer if he could, Dean kicked open the door and barged inside. He found an empty square with thin walls, no built in floor; nothing but a bed, a chair and an iron stove.

Disappointed, he searched for any clue that would point out which direction Sam went. He supposed a note was too much to ask for.

He stopped, checking himself before he lost focus. A homeless or lost person could easily have stumbled onto the cabin. It didn't have to be Sam.

But, he knew it was. He just knew it. Maybe because the door had been replaced, or the person hadn't attempted an attention-grabbing fire, but whatever it was, Dean's instincts told him that Sam had broken into the tiny hut.

Certain now that he was heading in the right direction, Dean burst out of the cabin. He didn't bother to fix the door. The pressure of time crushed in on him. If night arrived before he found his brother, they would find a corpse. No one could survive a night in this cold without proper gear.

"Sam," he called. "Sammy!"

The phone in his pocket buzzed.

"Bobby," he said.

"Did you find him?"

"Not yet."

"We need to find him right away. The mayor says that Sam is out there with no coat or shoes."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said.

"I'm heading out too. Just keep tracking like I taught you. We'll find him."

"Don't trust the mayor."

"Him and the deputy are locked up in that cage in the cellar. They don't like sharing space with that poor girl the demons killed, but I figure it serves them right."

"Hell, yeah," Dean said. "What about Ava?" He had been scanning the tree line while they talked looking for some sign of Sam. He thought he spotted the right direction.

"She didn't survive the exorcism."

Distracted, Dean said, "I think he's heading towards the river."

"That'd make sense. It'll lead to people."

Dean disconnected. He followed a clumsy trail with lots of clues and figured Sam must be disoriented from the cold. As the sound of the water grew louder, he scanned the current carefully. People tended to live upstream. It was a throwback to the early settlers and Sam would know that.

The trees grew sparse as he reached the creek bed. The ground was hard but not solid near the water and Dean could see the heavy indents from boots. He knew that Sam didn't have boots on but maybe someone had seen him. He called out again, scared that Sam might have fallen in. The water was deep with a fast current and so cold that it would steal a man's life in moments.

"Dean," Sam's voice called out.

Dean looked up to find him standing a hundred feet upstream, leaning casually against a tree. Sam waved. Dean's legs weakened with relief. He took a slow breath then jogged up the embankment to his brother.

"Hey," Sam said when Dean drew close enough.

Fear quickly swallowed Dean's momentary euphoria. Pale white skin with bright pink cheeks and hollowed eyes greeted him. Sam was shaking so hard, the bark on the tree trembled under his hand. But, he was smiling and that scared Dean more than anything.

"What are you doing out here?" Dean said.

"I had to get to the river." His voice shook and the words drawled out slowly.

Sam's gaze wandered but there didn't seem to be any focus. His eyes looked bland as if he wasn't thinking at all.

"That's a bad idea, Sam. Bobby's here. We should go see him instead."

"Sure…I'm supposed to get to the river though. I think she's trying to kill me but I don't if I can stop myself." He pointed towards the water but his hand was shaking violently.

"Why not?" Dean was worried before it didn't come close to the cold terror snaking up his spine now.

Sam shook his head. "I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Well, you did what she said, right? We don't need to get any closer."

Dean dragged off his sweatshirt, exhaling when the icy air swept through him. He handed it to Sam who took it but didn't put it on.

"It's really cold," Sam said. "I don't remember being this cold. Well, maybe when we slept in the car that winter in Oregon, maybe then."

"Yeah, probably." Dean nodded towards the sweatshirt. "You can wear that."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's yours."

"Yeah, but, I'm not cold and you are. Go ahead and put it on."

Sam nodded as he slipped it over his head.

"We should head back to the house," Dean said.

Blinking rapidly, Sam straightened up but kept one hand on the tree. He seemed to struggle as he pushed more words over his darkened lips.

"I don't like it there. She's always trying to touch me." Sam shuffled a few steps away. No longer looking in Dean's direction, he whispered, "She has black eyes now."

Dean felt his muscles stiffen, anger almost canceling his fear. Sam could handle an aggressive woman but, imprisoned and abused, he shouldn't have had to deal with that too.

"Okay, look," Dean said. "The demons are back in hell, Duke Davis is dead, and you're safe with me so let's just get some place warm."

"Eddie is dead too, but I didn't do it."

Dean studied Sam. He figured he could manhandle him into the right direction, but if he balked, it would be a problem. His giant brother wasn't going to be moved if he didn't want to be. But, with the cold cutting through Dean and the obvious signs of hypothermia in Sam, they didn't have time to waste.

"That's it," Dean said. "Snap out of it. Take a breath and get your brain in gear, Sam. We're walking out of here right now."

Sam scowled. "Ok, but why are you yelling at me?"

Sam started walking again, heading away from the river. He stumbled, crashing hard to his knees.

Dean dropped down next to him. He grabbed his shoulder physically turning Sam to face him.

"What?" He said as he looked into Sam's eyes.

He stared back and Dean saw the clarity in his gaze.

"Drugs," Sam said. "Devil's Breath."

The moment passed quickly and the blankness returned. Sam leaned into Dean who wrapped his arms around him. As they huddled there with Sam's trembling body pressing into him for warmth, Dean hoped Ava went to hell with the demon who possessed her.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

As Sam and Dean reached the hunter's cabin, Bobby rounded the side of the building. He rushed towards them.

"You two are going to freeze to death," he said.

"Sam, go in the cabin and lay down on the cot," Dean said.

Sam walked away from them, stiffly, like a robot and Dean sighed. He heard the cabin door creak open and knew that his brother was following directions.

"What was that?" Bobby said.

"They doped him up with Devil's Breath. He just does whatever I tell him."

Bobby's eyes narrowed.

"It's kept him on his feet and got him this far," Dean said, defensively. "That bitch, Ava, ordered him to go to the river. I caught him before he went for a swim."

Bobby scowled and shook his head. "Devil's Breath, huh? That'll make him all kinds of suggestible. There's some that think it can zombify people, at least temporarily."

"Well, he's not a zombie but we do need to warm him up."

"I already started a fire in the stove. It's toasty in there and I brought some blankets down from the house."

When they walked in the cabin, they found the boots that Sam had been wearing on the floor by the cot. Sam was sitting there, shivering, with the blankets pulled up to his chin.

"My brain won't work," Sam said.

"Let it rest," Dean said. "Lay down, close your eyes and sleep."

Sam blinked a couple of times before he followed the order. After a few minutes his breathing evened and his arms grew slack.

While Bobby watched over Sam, Dean borrowed his coat and trudged up to the house to check on Brian Myers and Marco Rivera. He made his way through the kitchen to the basement door then down the steps. He was surprised to find it all painted and carpeted. The cage sat in the middle of a finished room with couches and an entertainment center pushed up against the walls to make room for it.

Cheap posters framed in plastic frames decorated the space. Some photographs of Eddie and Ava, and other people that Dean didn't recognize were hung too.

Apparently the basement used to be a second living room until they decided to kidnap a college student. Now it just smelled like death and sweat with no remnant of the original intent.

Inside the cage, Brian and Marco sat on a bench. They faced opposite directions and were seated as far apart as they could get. On the other side of the cage, the body of a young woman lay crumpled. A blanket was draped over her but Dean could see enough to know that her head was nearly backward. Her eyes were open and her tongue protruded between her lips.

Brian stood up when he saw Dean. Blood still clung to his skin and he looked unsteady on his feet. The mayor didn't move. He sat facing away with his head cupped between his hands.

"Let us out of here," Brian said.

"I'm going to. You, anyway. "

"The mayor is no threat anymore. Look at him."

"This is what's going to happen. You're going to drive to town and get my car. You're going to bring it back here. After that, we're leaving, and you can do what you want."

"Drive us back and get your own car. You don't need me."

"I'm not leaving my brother out here."

Dean knew the deputy's anemic argument was just for show. He'd do what Dean wanted because Duke was dead and the mayor was useless. Someone had to take charge of the town.

"Duke said there might be a spell that would protect the town. Is there?" Brian said.

"Not exactly. But, it'll stop the monsters from being drawn here."

"Will you still do it? Perform the spell?"

"Bring my car back. Spotless. No scratches. Duke told me he had body work done after you bastards crashed into it. Bring her back…mint…and we'll do the spell."

Brian nodded, sighing softly at the assurance.

"That thing…that demon that…took me over…is it gone?"

"Bobby sent it back to hell. You're safe from it."

As Dean unlocked the cage, the deputy glanced towards the mayor who still sat silently on the bench. Then he looked towards the dead girl.

"I'll contact her family," Brian said. "She'll get a decent burial."

Dean believed him.

As Brian drove away, Dean hoped he was well enough to get back to town, retrieve "Baby" and return. The kid had been through a lot, including possession and a head injury.

Dean walked back to the cabin thinking it was possible that Brian would bring back reinforcements. Mark Lancaster and a few others on the force might be willing to try and coerce he, Bobby and Sam into hunting for them again. But, he doubted it. Their plan had fallen apart, Duke was dead and Marco Rivera was nearly catatonic.

Early evening brought colder temperatures and Dean was relieved when he entered the warmth of the hunter's cabin. The heat from the wood stove welcomed him. So did seeing his brother awake and sitting up on the cot. Bobby had pulled the chair over and was sitting near him.

"Hey, look at you…well, you look like crap but your eyes are open," Dean said.

Sam gave a weak scoff. "Yeah, I probably look better than I feel."

"I hope not," Dean said.

"How's the mayor and that deputy?" Bobby said.

"Rivera's in shock. His sister turning into a demon then dying might have pushed him over the edge."

"I thought I'd be able to save Kristen Navarro," Sam said. His words were thick with guilt and sadness.

"Demons, Sam," Dean said, hoping his brother understood that they can't save everyone.

"Now what?" Bobby said.

"I have Brian driving back to town and getting my car," Dean said. "Once Sam is road-worthy, we'll get out of here."

"We have to do the spell," Sam said.

"We don't owe these people anything," Dean said.

"We kind of do. We let the gate get opened and we never looked back. We have to reverse that, Dean."

"He's right," Bobby said. "We'll do the spell, hang around for a few days to clean up the mess, and then we'll leave."

Monsters are like cockroaches, Dean thought. Out loud, he said, "We'll do the spell and they'll come burrowing out of the woodwork."

"Probably," Bobby said. "Won't hurt to let Sam get some rest either."

"I'm fine," Sam said. "Just point me in the direction of a sandwich and I'm good to go."

"About that," Dean said. He pulled two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of one of the pockets in Bobby's jacket. He pulled a can of soda out of the other. "Sorry, no beer."

"You might get that 'best brother' mug yet," Sam said.

He took the sandwiches and soda from Dean, taking half of the first one in a single bite.

"There better not be peanut butter in my coat," Bobby said but he was smiling.

Dean shrugged without commenting. He was watching Sam eat, and enjoying the relief of having him close and safe.

 **SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL**

A few days later, Sam, Dean and Bobby sat around a small table inside Millie's Diner. After Bobby cast the spell to make the land normal again, they had stayed around to deal with any lingering monsters. A couple of beheadings, and one dramatic torching of a ruguaru, and the town grew quiet for forty eight hours. Dean declared it monster-free, and Bobby and Sam agreed with him.

After they paid the check at the restaurant, they split up in the parking lot. Bobby wished them luck before driving out, heading for his house in South Dakota.

Dean slid behind the wheel of the Impala still feeling the thrill of having both his car and brother back in one place.

"Where to next?" Sam said.

"Florida. Or Arizona. Someplace warm."

"We have to figure out how to get you out of the demon deal."

"I don't want to think about that right now."

"Dean, we lost a lot of time here."

"You want to talk about being kidnapped and all that quality interaction with Ava and the rest?"

Sam scoffed. "No."

"Well, I don't want to talk about my deal. So, let's not do either."

Dean started the engine. He wanted to get on the road, breathe free and not worry about his dwindling days on earth. Putting Ranch Head behind them was the only thing that mattered.


End file.
